


The Acquistion of Samuel Winchester

by saucyminx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-16
Updated: 2010-03-16
Packaged: 2017-10-28 07:26:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 64,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saucyminx/pseuds/saucyminx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean tried hard to stay together and to say no to Lucifer and Michael. Dean managed to say No. Sam said yes. Five years passed and Dean has tried to save as many people as he can creating a small compound, home for all the survivors of the apocalypse. On a mission to search for survivors Dean discovers the crumpled and broken body of Sam Winchester. Dean brings Sam back to the camp with him and together with Castiel begins to try and sort out who his brother is and what's left of him. The problem is - they have no idea if the connection to Lucifer is severed. Dean doesn't want Sam back if he can't trust who he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The safest time to travel was night. Dean knew this. Just like he knew the world was so much quieter with the loss of power. Just like he knew the quickest - and best - way to kill _them_ was a well placed bullet in the head. Just like he knew after five years the only thing to do was keep on moving. Some days, Dean thought it might be easier to simply let go of that will to survive. What was the point anyway? Thirty five years old and all he had to show for it was a small group of survivors, constantly looking to him for wisdom and support. Dean wasn't always strong enough to carry that weight on his shoulders alone.

Presently, they were in a small town an hour north of Phoenix. It wasn't safe to scout the bigger towns for supplies, too many places for the Croats to hide, and generally the smaller towns offered more. Whatever wannabe military that was still out there seemed to bypass the smaller cities, bigger weapons made it easier for them to fight off the bastards in the major cities. It wasn't always the most beneficial though. Dean and his crew had wasted too many gallons of precious fuel to get here, but so far it was paying off.

There was a method to their actions, routine now after the years of practice. They divided into groups, three men hitting up the gas stations, siphoning whatever fuel they could get. Dean's group consisted of five people, each with two duffel bags, empty and ready. This particular town had one of those mega stores, Sam's Club as the sign pronounced, and they entered with raised weapons, stopping just inside the doors and listening.

When there was no noise but quiet, air slightly stale from the lack of ventilation, Dean pulled out his flashlight and flicked it on, a silent signal for the others to go about their work. They split off in pairs, each with a designated list of items to hunt down; medical supplies and dry canned foods, things that would last for years and could be eaten cold.   
Dean worked alone. Dean _always_ worked alone. The row of shelves in front of him was cast in an eerie shadow as his flashlight swept over it. His mission was to pick up essentials that the others might not think of: batteries for lanterns, new bulbs in case they burned out, and bullets and weapons if they were available. As he moved he snagged a protein bar, tearing it open with his teeth and biting down into it. Unsurprisingly, it tasted a little like grit but Dean was used to that. The days of wishing for a nice juicy burger and greasy fries were fewer than not now.

Sometimes, Dean imagined how things used to be. Before the world ended, before Lucifer came and destroyed everything precious and dear to him. But it seldom did good to let his thoughts drift in this direction because they inevitably turned to Sam, and Dean did his very best to never think about his brother. If he did, he tried to remember the good times. Like when they were kids and Sam would complain about not getting any of the last box of Lucky Charms. Or later, when they were adults and learned that no one else's kisses could burn quite like the others’, no one else's touches would leave little trails of fire along their skin.

There was the faintest rustling in the darkness ahead of him, ripping Dean out of the thoughts he shouldn't have been having. Instantly alert, Dean raised his gun and flashlight in unison, sweeping the path before him as he slid forward with cautious and silent steps. Whatever was making the noise wasn't one of the infected, he knew this already. If it had been, the thing would have heard him by now and would be moving forward for blood. Plus, they seldom traveled alone unless they were bait; which was always an option, so Dean was prepared to shout out to his companions if needed. A few steps more and his light landed on the source of the disturbance.

Over the years Dean had adjusted to the moments in his life when he was given news of something so shocking, it would have shaken even the sanest person. Dean had always been a little insane though, so he took the information for what it was and kept on moving. Off the top of his head he could list a good half a dozen: learning that the monsters in the closet were real for starters; not to mention the fight between his dad and brother that had led to Sam leaving for college without a word; the unexpected death of his father, the sudden death of Sam; the deal in the aftermath that gave him one year to live, Hell, Sam releasing Lucifer, Sam giving into Lucifer, and last but not leastw22;the end of the _fuckin'_ world. This last one would definitely top the list until his life finally ended, for good.

The hunched figure before him was more the _idea_ of his brother than the actual man himself. Dirty clothes lay in tattered shreds all along his body. He was wearing a grimy shirt that was a few stitches from being nothing at all, and a pair of sweats too many sizes too small. Greasy brown hair was matted down along his head, bunched up oddly in random clumps. It was slightly longer than the last time Dean had seen it. Rough stubble poked its way past the smeared dirt on his pale skin. Even with the few feet between them Dean could smell the stench of him, and he learned a moment later - when his flash light swept the surrounding area, that it was actually the smell of urine and crap. _Holy fuck._

"Sam?"

It’s the first time he's said the name aloud in _years_ and just getting his throat to make the noise took effort. Already, his heart is speeding like a bullet, threatening to burst out of his chest at any moment. Instinct has him moving towards his brother, but he stops short at the last minute, steps faltering inches from the man. Last thing he knew, Lucifer had taken his vessel and they were off in Chicago or something, doing whatever the hell the Devil had planned after total annihilation of the human race. Almost instantly his mind gathered that this had to be some sort of trick, Lucifer's last stand to ensure his reign would go on without question. After all, if Dean was still alive then there was always the risk of Michael coming to dethrone him one day. Even though Dean hadn't seen hide or hair of the Angels for years, it wasn't likely Lucifer knew that.

Dean crouched down by a shaking figure, reaching out and nudging his arm with the flash light. He slid back a little when the man practically squeaked and skidded away from him, gathering up the thin blue blanket he had and tugging it up his body. There really wasn’t much to make of this, certainly not proof, Lucifer was a terrific actor, after all he was the Master of Deception. Dean didn't drop his weapon but he did slide forward once more, this time reaching out to touch the shaking man's arm with his own calloused fingers. "Hey," he whispered, not quite able to get himself to say _the name_ again.

This time, the man looked at him through ratted bangs, his head turning slowly. Dean instantly found himself pierced by eerily familiar hazel eyes. This was certainly Sam…or Sam's body. But there was a distinct lack of something within those eyes that had Dean shifting backward. He wasn’t used to feeling so confused about something. It had been so many years since the end of the world; things were generally pretty standard at this point. What Dean did know without a doubt, was that his group wouldn't take kindly to the addition of this skittish man, especially since Dean wasn't planning on providing details as to who he really was.

Then it occurred to him that Castiel would _know_ if this were all some trick that Lucifer was playing, Castiel would be able to sense the devil inside Sam. Of course, he had no idea what he would do then but... one step at a time he supposed. "Hey... Sam?" He flinched at the name, maybe like he always would, and cleared his throat. He didn't even know how to begin the journey back to entertaining the idea that this might be his brother, alive, before him. "Hey, it's Dean. Do you... remember me?" The words are surprisingly soft considering the weight of them. Dean reached out, fingers hesitating inches from skin, and then withdrew.

 

Before the cold, before the _fear_ , there was nothing. A great expanse of darkness, thick and tangible, yet empty, a void.

Before the cold, before the fear. It’s past now. It’s now. _Now_.

It’s cold. His teeth won’t stop chattering as he shivers. They’re the only sound, the sound that chases away The Nothing. Is it now? _Now_. His bones ache from shivering. His skin is so clammy.

Curling in on himself he can’t get warm. It must be Now because there’s _something_ cold, harsh cold and rough under his cheek. He shakes his head, pain coursing through his flesh. _His_ flesh. Nothing peaceful, nothing kind. His teeth are still chattering. His fingers claw into soft material, and he pulls the soft over him. Nothing… The Nothing was better than this.

There was a scream; someone was screaming, terrified, yelling himself hoarse. Screaming like he did when The Nothing first came; screaming even though there was no one to hear him. How long did he scream with no one there to listen?

It shot through, piercing heart, lungs, kidneys, every fleshy life giving part of him. Fear and cold, inside and out. Cold fear. Exhaustion took him away. He liked away, he could still remember away.

Green eyes. Bright white with flashes of memory startled him. He blinked, muscles twitching feebly under the moss-green gaze. Green eyes. _Green eyes._

Sam, he heard, Sam. Brow furrowed, he noticed the other man clenching his fists and flinched. “Sam,” he said. _Sam._ Sam is nothing.

Flashes, light so bright it seared into his brain. He didn’t want to be touched. Everything hurt and he bolted away from the sensation. He felt like someone had turned him inside out; reached down his throat and yanked out his bones. He was so _cold._ Where had The Nothing gone?

 _Dean._ Another knife shot through him, razor sharp, with unwavering aim. _Dean._ The word was a hot knife through butter; his chest pierced through and through. _Green eyes._ His teeth wouldn’t stop chattering. Reaching, his hand shook so badly he missed _Dean_ when he reached out. Something was being dragged along behind the word, the name; _Dean_ and _green eyes._ It’s safe and his fingers curl around a warm hand.

Sam, here’s Sam. He _is_ Sam. Sam and Dean. Dean is safety. Always and forever. After The Nothing. Aching fingers reached out for the man's wrist but he pulled away, and was gone again.

 _Remember_ \- there's nothing to remember, there was only nothing before this. Dean, Dean is safe. Sam thinks that must be true. It _feels_ true. He opens his mouth but there are no words that he can remember. Sounds, he can make sounds, but Dean's face seems so confused.

There was a flicker of things across the blank slate of Sam's face and Dean watched it, confused, stunned, shocked. A whole whirlwind of emotions he hadn't felt in so long they almost _hurt._ "Saw22;" he tried to get the name out but it burned in his throat and he pushed up, standing above the hunched figure that was, once upon a time, his brother. "Come with me," he insisted quietly, knowing that the time for his quest was slipping by and before long the people in his group would come looking for him. It would be difficult to explain Sam's appearance, but Dean had led them through many tough times before this, so they would probably trust him in the end.

For a long minute he stood to the side, watching Sam skitter around as if the ground would tell him whether it were safe to follow Dean or not. Dean couldn't help wondering if Sam knew who he was. The idea of him not knowing Dean made his heart clench, and stomach knotted painfully. But then Sam looked up at him and Dean could see that flash of recognition. A frown tugged the edges of Dean's lips down and he swallowed a few times before turning his back on the figure.

"C’mon. You need to talk to someone," he whispered, clenching his fist around the flashlight. The sooner they spoke with Castiel, the sooner Dean would be able to think about the possibility that his brother wasn't as dead as he'd once thought he was. Dean didn't even know how to process the information at this point in time.

 _Sam_ followed. He was _Sam_. He was Sam and Dean wanted him to follow. Sam pushed up onto his bleeding, burning feet and limped along slowly behind Dean. An invisible tether pulled Sam forward, wouldn't let him be left behind. He tripped and then stumbled a few steps; his legs and feet ached. They were bruised, unaccustomed to movement, unused to the slow step by step progress they were making. _Sam_. He was Sam and he was following Dean because Dean was important ... somehow. _Safe_. Children's voices echoed in Sam's mind, cries half familiar, half unknown. He pushed them away.

"Who is that?" The girl to the left of him, Michelle, narrowed her eyes in suspicion the minute they came into the light of the doorway.

Dean's eyes scanned across the full duffel bags on her shoulders before he glanced at the others to ensure they'd gathered as much as they could carry as well. "It's none of your concern right now," he said firmly, spoken with the authority he'd asserted among them. After all, Dean was the only one among them who had managed to keep his mind calm and collected as the world fell to pieces. And, for more than half the members in the group, he was the one who had saved their lives.

The four of them shifted uneasily, Dean could tell they wanted to question him further but he only gestured toward the door and stepped out. The men who had been gathering supplies at the gas station were now parked not ten feet from them and Dean only needed to take two steps outside - Sam in seemingly slow motion behind him - before he caught Castiel's eyes. The angel's expression never wavered, but over the years Dean had learned to read the little signs. The shift in his shoulders, the shuffle of his feet, told Dean that he was just as shocked and surprised as Dean was. Both kept the feelings buried, and only doing so to benefit the others in their group.

"Dean," Castiel stepped forward, eyes flickering to the limp man behind him. "Shall we talk inside?"

Dean nodded and glanced toward the group. "Pack up the stuff. We leave in ten," his eyes flickered across the questioning faces and he sighed heavily. Sometimes you had to give someone something to go on or run the risk of causing a minor rebellion that could quickly escalate. That wasn't what Dean needed. "I’ll explain what I can on the drive. The important thing is that the sun’s setting in half an hour and we need to be on the road by then."

This seemed to pacify them, at least for the moment, so Dean gestured toward the door of the shop, letting Castiel go in first. He watched the angel's eyes flicker over Sam curiously and, seeing no alarm or hesitation, Dean swallowed and let his hand graze over Sam's shoulder. "Hey, back inside for a minute," the words were much softer and quieter than he had grown accustomed to. But, had Lucifer still been inside his brother, Castiel would surely have made him aware by now. Dean trailed behind Sam back into the store, and watched as the broken man side stepped, waiting for Dean before sliding slightly behind him. He glanced at Castiel with nervous eyes.

Sam shied away from the other body. He wasn't a man, he was one of _them_. Not more of them, not another Angel. They asked permission, but that was where their consideration ended. The Angels had never liked Sam and he knew that, it was Dean they protected. Sam's eyes darted between the two men as he shifted back and forth slowly on his feet. Sam turned slightly so he didn't have to look at the angel, didn't have to see the shivering half appearance of wings around him as they faded in and out of his vision. He pressed his eyes closed, he didn't want to see it, didn't want to be reminded of the Angels.

Dean was speaking to it. Their words were winding in and out of Sam's mind but it was more like muffled sound than actual language. Sam didn't understand, didn't care. He hovered around behind Dean, afraid to stop moving in case he just sank back to the ground again. The Angel's name was Castiel; it seemed familiar to Sam like his tongue knew how to form the name, had called it out.

Words bubbled to the surface of Sam's mind, Castiel's words, _I did it all for you, Dean_. Sam shook his head slowly, side to side, matted hair barely moving. He rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands, standing close to Dean. He didn't touch Dean; he could tell that he disgusted him.

"So..." Dean clenched his jaw, glancing back at Sam before turning to Castiel. "There's no trace of..."

Castiel peered at Sam with solemn eyes for a minute before sliding his gaze back to Dean. "This is your brother, Dean. Lucifer has left him."

Dean turned and stared at the broken man, watched him shuffle his feet slightly, pick at the clothing around him. "That is not my brother Cas," Dean turned back to the angel, arm jutting out to gesture to Sam. "Look at him! He's a fuckin' zombie. What happened to him?"

Sam flinched as Dean's arm moved toward him, his head ducked and he closed his eyes.

"I can understand you are upset," Castiel nodded, hands hanging loosely at his side.

"Upset?" Dean gaped at him, laughing humorlessly as he scratched the back of his neck. "You're damn right I'm upset, and fuckin' confused. My brother is supposed to be _dead_ Castiel. I've thought this for _five_ years. And now he's here?" Dean looked over at Sam and scoffed. "Where have you been?" He slid forward, trying to keep his voice from shaking as he stepped within inches of his brother. "Why are you here now? Just when I thought it might finally be over..." Dean broke off sharply and turned away, shoulders hunching together as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "What are we going to tell the others? How do we explain the randomly convenient appearance of my brother?"

Sam's fingers twitched at his side, he wanted to touch Dean but he kept moving away.

Castiel shook his head and Dean knew his words sounded ridiculous. But he should be allowed a moment to freak the _fuck out_ because seriously, what other options were there? "We will tell them he is a survivor, that his state of mind is weakened because he's lived in solitude for so long. There need not be panic."

Dean nodded in agreement, and stepped into the space just before Sam, reaching out to slowly cup the man's jaw and tilt his face up. "Where have you been?" he asked again, much softer, peering down into Sam's eyes sadly. "I let you go... how am I supposed to take you back?" There was no offered answer, not that Dean really expected one.

Afraid to breathe, Sam leaned into the soft touch. Dean's hand was so warm, smelled so clean. His green eyes looked so sad and hollow - like something was missing.

"Dean," Castiel spoke quietly from his side and Dean dropped his hand, tilting his head toward the angel. "We should go before the sun sets."

"We should," Dean agreed and slowly curled his fingers around Sam's wrist. "Come on Sam, a few more steps then you can rest for awhile." He wasn't anywhere near accepting of this situation, but that was the thing about life. Things happened, paths diverged, and you simply had no choice but to keep on moving. Even if that meant Dean had to somehow come to terms with his brother's presence once again being thrust into his world.

Sam twisted his wrist a little in Dean's grasp and stumbled forward into motion behind the other man. Maybe soon they would let him sleep. Finally, Sam's fingers uncurled from the tattered and filthy blanket that he'd been covered with and it fell to the ground behind them.

The drive was tense and silent. Dean could feel the eyes of his companions sliding over to Sam curiously. It was always harder to trust the new people the further into things they got. After so many years, it was a pretty rare thing to find anyone outside the group that wasn't infected. It probably didn't help matters much that Sam was sitting closer to him than the average newbie would. Dean had to keep his hands curled over his knees to keep from reacting in anyway. Questions flipped through his mind, one after the other, so constant he couldn't get his brain to shut off even as the skies darkened and their journey continued.

There was no logical answer to the question of where Sam had come from. Or why Lucifer had left him. Sam was Lucifer's true vessel. Had the Devil finally given up on their wreck of a planet? Did this mean the final end to the world was near? Or had Sam done something? Managed to reclaim his mind after so long? That idea seemed next to impossible.

Dean's eyes slid over to Sam’s sleeping figure and he did a double take, as if just now noticing him again for the first time. The shock was still _very_ present. Dean had no idea how long it might take him to adjust to the idea that his brother was not as dead as he should have been. It had always been easier to think of him as dead, rather than... the alternative. Now, neither of those things were true, and Dean had felt like he was drowning in the _too much_.

Jerking his eyes away from his brother, they locked instead with Castiel's. He could see the sympathy on the angel's face and he wished he could yell at him, tell him to stop looking so god damn sad on his behalf because that wasn't what he wanted. Now if Castiel could provide him with some answers? _That_ would be worth the look. Dean dropped his eyes to the floor and scowled. He needed a strong drink, a long shower, and a juicy burger. He needed his brother, _his_ Sam, the man he used to know, who very likely wasn’t the man sitting here beside him.

Since the world came screeching to a halt, there were a lot of things Dean needed and very few he actually got.

"Maybe it’ll be better if I talk to him alone," Dean stared wearily at the door. Just inside Sam was likely to be shivering on the floor, not using the bed they'd provided. A little more than thirty six hours had passed since they found the man, and it didn't seem very likely that he was going to snap out of this thing any time soon. They had put him in the room more for safety from the others. Living in this world changed the way you learned to trust someone and Sam certainly wasn't making any friends by being in this nearly catatonic state. Even with Dean's warnings to flay anyone who stepped within twenty feet of the room, he still didn't think Sam was one hundred percent safe. Those brotherly instincts would never fade away, no matter how much time passed. He kept the key to the room on him at all times, sitting out front and guarding it more often than not.

Castiel frowned, tilting his head down and to the side. "Dean," that tone was familiar, gentle and yet commanding all at the same time. "Perhaps it is not wise to leave you alone with him so soon. You might do something you will regret later."

They had never flat out spoken about Sam and Dean's history, the more, but Dean knew that Castiel knew. After all, Castiel always seemed to know things about Dean that he'd rather him not know. "I don't think he's very fond of you. I'm thinkin' with you there he's less likely to open up."

"We shall see. If this appears to be the case then we'll discuss other options," Castiel gestured to the door. "For now, we should try and find out what he knows."

Dean mumbled as he pulled the key from his pocket and turned it in the lock, "Doesn't seem like he knows much of anything right now."

Sam curled his feet under him as he huddled in the corner of the room. He could hear rain drops pelting down on the roof. It rained so much now, the sky almost always seemed dark, angry and Sam couldn't remember the last time he had seen sunshine.

He let his lashes fall to his cheeks. Exhaustion had settled permanently into his bones. In the instant before he heard the lock on the door open Sam's body stiffened. He groaned quietly as he pushed himself farther back into the corner. The angel was coming back. The sensation wafted ahead of Castiel like a wave, something that distorted Sam's vision for a moment so he pressed his eyelids down hard. No more Angels. _No more_. Sam's wishes didn't work anymore - maybe they never had.

Blinking his eyes open, Sam stared at the opening door. Castiel. Sam's memories were broken pieces and half truths. The angel’s wings shimmered briefly behind him then were gone and Sam's head fell to his knees.

As soon as Dean was close enough Sam scrambled across the floor and settled himself behind the man's feet. He leaned his side against Dean's legs. "No," he murmured into the denim in front of his mouth. The sound of his own voice startled him and Sam shook his head back and forth so hard that nausea threatened to send bile racing up into his mouth. His fingers grasped the cuff of Dean's blue jeans. Sam's far-too-thin frame was hunched over his hands, _something to hold on to_.

When Dean moved away Sam's heart lurched in his chest. The Angel's, _Castiel's,_ presence was a silent weight in the room. His voice was soft and quiet, crossing the gap between them as though his words had all the time in the world to get to Sam.

Sam knew that Angels spoke, talked circles around him until he didn't know what the truth was anymore.

The wings shimmered behind Castiel's body as he knelt near Sam. Sam's back was to the corner and he kept a wary eye fixed on the angel. His brow furrowed in concentration. He watched Castiel’s lips moving, paid attention as the words wove their way into his mind. _Who are you?_ Sam, Dean said Sam. He narrowed his eyes at the angel. _Where have you been?_ Nothing. Sam had been nothing. Sam had been pushed aside.

There were so many questions; Sam lost track. Too many, too much and Sam kept his lips pressed together as he let his head fall back to his knees.

"It appears he will not answer my questions," Castiel said quietly and straightened up, eyes finally lifting from Sam's face to Dean's. "I have tried every technique I know of."

"That’s what I've been telling you," Dean rolled his eyes and glanced down at the man, his brother. Sam was still hiding behind him, body folded together, rocking back and forth as if he was terrified just by Castiel's presence. Dean personally couldn't imagine being scared of _Castiel_ , sure the angel could be one hell of a fighter but he was confident that he wouldn't ever hurt Sam. Dean would never let him, despite... _everything_. "He needs to get cleaned up and I don't want him staying in this room any longer."

Castiel gave him one of those _looks_ that told Dean knew he exactly what the man was thinking. "Dean... it would be unwise to have him in your cabin. The others would question."

"It's none of their business," Dean snapped back, fixing his gaze on Castiel. "I'm not gonna deny it Cas, I know there's a lot of shit between Sam and I. And I don't think we'll ever be like we once were," Dean darted a look down to Sam, heart clenching unexpectedly before looking back up. "But he's still my _brother_ and someone has to look after him. I still know him and whatever happened to make him like this... it's gotta be one hell of a big thing. Sam is... was... one of the strongest people I know. Something broke him and I can't just leave him to suffer through that alone."

It was clear from the way the angel shifted his stance that all the fight in him on the subject was gone. "I shall gather up the others, keep them from disturbing you."

Dean watched him head to the door, waiting until his hand was along the knob before saying softly, "Cas... do you think he'll ever come back?"

Castiel sighed softly, his back to Dean as he lifted his shoulders, "It is impossible to say."

The door opened and Castiel stepped through, closing it behind him.

For awhile Dean considered the door in silence. This might not be the wisest idea, Dean was willing to accept that, but frankly he didn't feel that he had a lot of options. Sam was caked with dirt and grime, who knew how long it had been since he last ate or drank - he'd refused to take anything when Dean offered before - and Dean wasn't too keen on the idea of letting him continue to stew in his own juices. For all he knew Sam's basic life functions had been altered completely. After all, Castiel never required food while in his vessel; Dean didn't think Lucifer had been stopping for burgers while locked inside Sam.

Shuddering, Dean turned to Sam and knelt beside him, slightly shaky hand extending to settle along Sam's shoulder, "Come on Sw22;" The name was still having problems forming on his tongue and Dean bit his lip and looked to the side.

 _Dean_. Sam's eyes flitted up to the other man's face and he tightened his arms around his knees. The hand on his shoulder was warm, gentle; Sam lifted his head and turned it toward Dean's hand, inhaling the scent of him.

Wetting his dry and chapped lips, Dean curled his fingers around Sam's arms and tugged him up. "We're gonna get you cleaned up," he shifted Sam's body, loosening his hands, judging whether the man was going to be able to stand on his own, to walk without assistance. "Can you walk with me?" Dean asked, tilting his head to try and look into Sam's mostly vacant eyes, trying to get him to connect to this world.

Sam tilted his head to the side, blinking slowly he rubbed at his face with the back of his hand. Dean was going to take him somewhere. His eyes drifted down to the other's man's sleeve and his fingers curled under the bottom of Dean's shirt sleeve. Sam nodded. He could follow Dean.

"Okay, good," Dean felt just the slightest swell of relief when his brother's head shifted down and up. At least it told him Sam was aware of his surroundings, aware of the words being spoken to him. It was one step in the right direction and hopefully meant not all hope was lost. "C'mon," he led them toward the door, pulling it open and shifting his eyes towards his brother to ensure he was following.

The clearing was devoid of people; Dean was relieved that Castiel had actually managed to gather everyone up like he said he would. Dean had to work to keep his pace slow enough for Sam to keep up. His cabin was more a large shed, reinforced to stay warm, with a large bed, a table with chairs, and something that could have been considered a kitchen, since they were no longer able to use things like stoves and fridges. They had no running water; instead they relied on a well in the middle of their camp for both drinking and bathing water. If Dean had spare time, he'd heat the water over a fire before cleaning himself off. But right now, he doesn't have time for such a long process.

Dean left Sam just inside his cabin so he could go up fill a bucket of water, returning within minutes. Sam didn't seem to move while he was gone and Dean blew out a small puff of air, wondering if he was strong enough to handle this. He'd thought after so many years of facing the unexpected, he was strong enough for anything. But well... the sight of Sam in front of him was more than the average blow.

"Okay, over here," Dean carried the bucket to the far side of the cabin where the floor slanted down, providing a place for the water to run out. He snatched the rag from the wall and dipped it into the bucket, ringing out its contents. Dean's eyes slid up to Sam and he swallowed before forcing out, "Shirt off."

Nervous, Sam's eyes moved from the bucket to Dean's hand then back to Dean's face. He shifted back until he bumped into the wall behind him fingers curling into the front of his shirt. Leaning heavily against the wall, Sam slid down the rough wood until he was sitting on the floor. Staring up at Dean's face he started to shake a little, he didn't understand. Sometimes, the words made sense, other times he just knew that it _should_ make sense.

With a faint sigh Dean moved forward and knelt beside Sam. "Shirt," Dean tugged on the fabric, trying to let his nerves to settle and calm.

Cleaning. Sam's eyes moved across Dean's face then he sat forward a little and grabbed the bottom of his shirt so he could pull it up over his head. It was automatic to undress that way but there was so little of his shirt left that it almost fell apart in his hands. Fisting the material Sam blinked up at Dean waiting to see if he'd done what he wanted.

Dean sucked in a sharp breath, his gut twisting as the full view of Sam's broad shoulders and chest were exposed. His skin was milky pale, scattered with deep purplish bruises, some so dark they almost looked black. "Okay," he nodded, clearing his throat Dean shifted back to grab the bucket and drag it over. "The water's cold okay?" He warned softly before he brought the rag to Sam's shoulders and gently worked along the flesh. "I'm sorry; it takes too long to heat it up, but next time. When you're feeling better," Dean murmured softly now, more to keep his attention focused on the task and not on the oddly familiar lines of Sam's chest. "Can you lift your arms Sam?" He swallowed around the name, soaking the rag again before sliding it down Sam's stomach.

Sam started to shiver; the water was so cold. Dean's touch felt good and Sam watched the other man's face carefully. His eyes were kind, the same color the grass used to be. Rocking slowly Sam lifted his arms slightly and watched Dean's face soften; he lifted them further and grasped the front of Dean's shirt to hold them up. Averting his eyes, shivering, Sam stretched up, getting clean.

When Sam was much younger, just a little kid, Dean himself couldn't have been older than seven or eight, they used to bathe together. It was a comfort thing, sharing the bath tub and playing with bath toys together. Years later, when they had grown up and things between them had shifted, they shared showers occasionally and it was a whole different level of comfort. Dean shied away from the memories, slamming a wall between them and this moment here. "Okay, up now," Dean tugged at Sam once more. "Gotta take off your pants; clean your legs and stuff. Okay?" He tried for a reassuring smile.

Pressing his free hand against the wall behind him, Sam pushed up. His legs ached, he settled back on one foot - the one that hurt less. His fingers tightened on Dean's shirt, he didn't want to let go; Dean was so strong, _good_ , warm.

It was surprisingly easy to allow Sam to hold onto him as he continued to clean the man. Sam's legs were just as bruised as his chest and Dean couldn't help wondering what had happened to cause Sam so much physical pain. The barely there material of his pants pooled along his feet and Dean tried not to pay too much attention to the fact that Sam had no underwear on and was consequently naked before him. It had been a very _long_ time since the last time he saw his brother naked. Dragging his tongue once more across his lips, Dean forced himself through the task until all the dirt had been removed from his brother's skin. "Lean on the wall now Sam. I'm going to get you some clothes to put on."

Sam rested back against the wood, shaking he wrapped his arms across his chest and rubbed his cheek against the warm wood. Dean wasn't mad at him, he'd done right. He wanted to sit; he was tired. _Dean_ would make things even better, Sam was sure now.

There was no way Dean would ever admit it aloud to anyone, not even to Sam if the time came and he asked about it, but the truth was, letting go of Sam had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done. Physically watching his brother walk away, that had stung so bad his heart ached for years after, even now as the memory sparked up again. And when Sam had been gone only a few days Dean had found a pair of his jeans amongst his things, he'd never quite been strong enough to throw them away. Dean never touched them, only once to slip them from his duffel bag into the bottom drawer, but there they remained nonetheless; a constant reminder.

Now he retrieved them with still slightly shaky hands, snatching a pair of his own boxers and a shirt. Dean pursed his lips as he headed back across the cabin and snatched a towel from the wrack. Lifting Sam from the wall, letting him lean into him, Dean ran the towel over Sam's body, warming him up and getting him dry at the same time. He knelt in front of Sam with the boxers held out next urging, "Step in," and pushing at the back of Sam's calf.

Sam lifted leaden limbs and stepped into the boxers, swaying slightly. Reaching down he trailed his fingers over Dean's hair, it was soft, longer. _Longer_. Sam blinked, he was with Dean before. His fingers moved over the lines on Dean's face, the smooth cheekbone, the long straight nose, it was so familiar.

Dean tilted his head up to stare at Sam, swallowing hard a few times, a little more than shaken by the touches. "Once more, for your jeans," Dean murmured and slid the jeans forward for Sam to step into. He shimmed the denim up Sam's legs, rising with the motion and clasping the button, dragging up the zipper. "Shirt," Dean offered and, when Sam didn't move, he sighed softly and scrunched up the material to slide it over Sam's arms and head, dragging it down his chest. "Are you warm enough? Do you want a coat?" His hands rested along Sam's arms for a moment, sliding down the skin.

 _So many questions_. Sam moved his tongue around his mouth parting his lips, coughing. He stepped closer to Dean and leaned against his warmth, the shivers wracking his body actually making him ache. Barely able to keep his eyes open Sam leaned down to bury his nose in the soft, brown hair and breathed in.

It would have been fairly easy for Dean to step back, to put distance between them like he knew he should. Instead, he let his arms wrap around his brother’s shoulders, tightening his hold on the taller man and splaying his hands flat along his back. "Let's have you lay down for a little while alright?" He walked Sam over to the bed, pushing at him until he sat on the mattress. Heading to the makeshift kitchen, Dean grabbed a bottle of water and a protein bar before returning to his brother's side, sitting on the mattress and uncapping the top of the water bottle and offering it to him, "Drink."

Sam pulled his feet back up onto the bed and reached out for the bottle. Running his fingers over the smooth surface he looked across at Dean and smiled. It wasn't so bad here, it was better than... Sam's eyes squeezed closed and he shifted back on to the bed, clutching the water bottle and drawing his knees up to his chest.

"Hey, Sam," he was a little surprised that the name still was so hard to say. It was getting a little old. He wished it would start getting easier. "Do you remember me?" He turned on the mattress to study his features. "Do you know who I am?"

Opening his eyes slowly Sam lifted the water bottle to his mouth with both shaking hands. He gulped greedily, his throat raw and painful. Emptying the bottle Sam lowered his hands once more and held the water bottle out to the other man nervously. He wanted more; it was cool and smooth on his burning throat. "Dean," he whispered softly.

The way his heart lurched at the sound of his name falling from Sam's lips was just too much and Dean shied from the feeling by pushing off the bed and heading back into the kitchen. He grabbed a few more water bottles and scrubbed at the back of his neck uncomfortably before heading back to Sam and holding out a new bottle. After a moment he pulled it back and twisted off the cap, offering the bottle to Sam. "Right, I'm Dean. And do you know... what I am to you?" He tilted his head to the side, trying to judge Sam's expression.

Lashes fluttering closed, Sam's mind flooded with bits and pieces of memories; heated touches and comfort, children laughing, long hours lying against each other in the car. Blinking his eyes open Sam took the water, "Dean," he murmured holding the water close to his chest in case it was taken away. Voices were echoing through his mind and he rubbed at his eyes with his free hand, _you're mine, Sammy_. He remembered sliding his small hand into someone's, knowing he was safe, knowing things would be alright. He looked up at Dean over the top of his knees, "Mine...you're mine." Sighing, Sam closed his eyes, exhausted.

Dean's jaw dropped slightly, eyes widening. He hadn't expected that. _Mine... you're mine._ He wished he had the strength to deny those words but the facts and evidence were against him. "Would you like to sleep Sam? Here, on this bed? I promise not to leave you alone," his throat worked a few times in effort to control the mixture of confusion and ache in his heart.

Opening his eyes slightly Sam let himself fall to the side, water bottle still clutched in one hand and pulled himself closer to Dean. Glancing up nervously he curled up on his side and rested his cheek on Dean's thigh. Sighing and shivering slightly, Sam closed his eyes again. Dean was warm, _warm and mine_. Water bottle in one hand, Sam curled his other over Dean's leg.

Blinking down at his brother, Dean frowned slightly before he tugged the water bottle from his grasp and placed the cap on top, twisting it closed. "Okay... just... for a little while," Dean whispered and slowly let his hand come to rest on Sam's hair. It still needed to be washed but they'd cross that bridge later. Right now, he was fairly certain Sam was in need of some rest and there would be nothing to gain from pushing his limits. So despite being desperate for answers, and a little more than teetering on the edge of something _dangerously_ close to forbidden feelings, Dean settled back on the mattress and pulled Sam up to his side, wrapping a strong arm around his body to hold him tightly.

 _Like it always was._ Sam settled under Dean's arm hand sliding up to settle over the dull thudding of the other man's heart deep within him. "Dean..." he sighed out, sleepily nuzzling against Dean's chest.


	2. Chapter 2

The way things come back to Sam is slow and teasing at first, then insane and painful. Sam has come to think of it as scratching away with his nails and torn up hands at an image that’s been painted over. He clawed, picked and grated his hands against the covered image only to reveal tiny pieces at first. Slowly, strips of color were revealed, then strange cross-sections of lines and faces. There would always come a point, he never expected it - when the picture, the image, the _memory_ became whole.

At first, the memories were simple concepts rather than complex situations; The Nothing, being Sam, and _Dean_ , the Angel. Something bigger was pressing down on Sam while he tried to sleep. He pressed his cheek, sticky with sweat against Dean's shirt and breathed in the essence of the man. _Been here before._ Sam’s mind started to scratch away at the paint that was covering the memory; it peeled away thick and dark, like sunburned skin.

 _Sam's so small he still fits **in** places. He wants to be taller and one day he will be because Dean always tells the truth. Tonight, that's horrible. Dean has just explained to Sam that all the bad things are real. And Dean **always** tells the truth. Anything can hurt him, and all the things that Dad said were made up, Dean has said are true. Sam knew it, kids were afraid of the dark for a reason; they hadn't yet convinced themselves to pretend that none of the bad things were real._

 _So now, huddled on his side of the bed with wisps of hair plastered to his tear dampened cheeks, Sam knew only two things; Dad had lied and Dean had told the truth. But then, Dean **always** told the truth._

 _He wasn't really sure why he was crying. Maybe it was because he knew he'd never fall asleep again without fear tapping at his mind’s window pane. Sam couldn't _un_ know what he’d learned from Dean. He would have to look everywhere now for the signs: cold spots, bad smells, and black eyes, even vampires; so much for an eight year old brain to try to work through._

Sam lay there until his cheeks were tight and stinging with dried tears. He was chewing on his bottom lip, working on peeling the chapped skin off with his teeth. His hands ached from being clenched into fists.

Dean only had to say Sam's name and he was flinging back his covers, slipping across the floor on socked feet and diving into bed with Dean. Sam's body still knew how to fit with Dean's. He scooted up close to his big brother, nuzzling into Dean's neck and closing his eyes.

Sam opened his eyes slowly, waiting to see if the memories would slide away from him. When they held their form, staying so vivid in his mind's eye, he looked up at _Dean - his brother_. He shifted against Dean's body, tentative fingers slipping out from under the covers to trace the gentle curve of the man's chin. He didn't look like someone's brother anymore; he looked like a soldier. Even in sleep his face was drawn, obscuring any subtlety of emotion; impossible to read. Sam smiled; it was his first smile since... The Nothing. Things felt clearer for Sam, more defined, and somehow - he felt more _human_. Dean stirred against him and Sam rested his head back down against his brother's chest.

It’d been some years since Dean had woken up with someone else in his bed. He'd never gotten around to having random flings after the world ended, despite people's tendency to crave them even more. Dean had watched a few of the men in their group get sucked into relationships they weren't prepared to have. Dean couldn't have someone clinging to him like that and - despite how amazing things had been with his brother –he’d never entertained the idea of sleeping with another man. That took a lot of trust, something he only ever shared with Sam. Which was why, waking up with Sam in his bed, shook him on a deeper level than he was prepared to admit. Of course, he wasn't really prepared to admit anything. Blinking his eyes open, Dean stared down into his brother face and frowned. "Sam. Sleep well?"

Sam jumped, startled by Dean's voice in the silent room. He cleared his throat and moved his head down, averting his eyes from the intense green gaze. "Yes," he almost whispered, hands curled into fists against Dean's side. Taking in a deep breath Sam closed his eyes again. It was warm and safe here with Dean; Dean always took care of him. It felt good to speak, like it eased off the pressure cooker building inside of Sam.

Deciding it was a good sign that Sam apparently had somewhat found his voice and was sticking with it; Dean shuffled them a bit in the bed and once more peered down at the man. "Do you feel up to talking with me for a little while? Maybe answer a few questions if you can?" He accompanied the request with the slide of his fingers along Sam's arm, hoping it would soothe any nerves he might have.

Sam watched his brother's fingers moving along the scarred flesh of his arm. He nodded, sliding a hand up to scratch at his matted hair. He was so _dirty_. He shifted back from Dean a little not wanting to taint the other man - he was so clean, smelled fresh like sleep, _just like when they were kids._

Turning the surge of questions over in his mind, Dean pursed his lips and thought silently for awhile. It was too soon to ask some of the major ones: _Why did you say yes?_ or _Do you remember ending the world?_ So he settled for something he hoped was slightly easier, "Do you know how long you were waiting in that place? Before I found you?"

It should be a simple question to answer, Sam knew that. There was so much time before he was there and so little afterward. Before he found _Dean_ , or, before Dean found him. "Long?" His voice lilted up at the end in a vague question; it had felt like a long time. Days? Weeks? "Days..." he murmured as he picked nervously at a scab on his cheek.

"Do you remember before that?" Dean asked quietly, as he swatted. at Sam's hand. "Don't pick. You'll make yourself bleed and scar," he added with a slight frown, the pad of his thumb dragging along the unblemished skin right below the scab.

Sam flinched, eyes blinking rapidly, and scooted further away. "D-Don't...." he didn't want to hurt anymore. "Nothing... before," he held his arm up in front of his face as if to ward away any further blows. "It's.... blank, dark."

Frown deepening, Dean slid up into a sitting position and considered Sam with narrowed eyes. The sting of something too close to rejection flooded his system and he shook his head, looking to the side. "What do you feel now? I mean... about being here," after a moment he sighed and tried to rephrase things better for Sam to answer. "You seem to remember me. Do you remember Castiel?"

 _He_ was an angel too. Sam shook his head from side to side and slid down off the side of the mattress. "Dean?" Scuffling his feet on the floor, Sam pushed back up against the wall. "You… you said monsters were real. They are." He blinked up at his brother for a few moments then squeezed his eyes shut against the images that were seeping into his mind. "Castiel...Castiel..." The name was familiar in Sam's mouth, like a flavor he couldn't quite identify. "He's an angel ... isn't he?"

Looking over at his brother, Dean nodded slowly. "Yeah he's an angel, a good one. He helps me... us. He's... important," Dean couldn't get into just how much the angel had helped him over the past few years. He was a trusted ally, but the way Sam said the name it was as if he were something vile. "Remember? He's the one who brought me back from Hell."

Something sharp and painful dug its way out of Sam's memory. "You belong to him now..." his voice trailed off and he pushed up on the wall until he was standing. His fingers moved to the scab on his face again, then his eyes widened and his hand dropped back to his side. "You're not mine anymore." It hurt inside, like something had been torn out of him. "Even though you said you always would be." Sam wandered slowly away from the bed and looked around the room. _Bits and pieces,_ that's what he was given to work with. Sad wisps of memories he couldn't quite retrieve.

Pushing up off the bed and following Sam, Dean tugged on a pair of pants from the dresser and slipped into them. "Belong to him? No, I don't," he came to stand behind Sam, hesitating for a moment before laying his hand on Sam's shoulder. "I don't... it's never been like that with him and I. You are..." He sighed softly and shook his head. He couldn't even begin to describe what Sam was to him. _The only one._ It had been that way for years, maybe even before they were officially anything at all.

Without turning around, Sam slid his cool fingers over Dean's; he could remember how their fingers felt inter twined. "Castiel is an angel," Sam repeated, as though there were some hidden meaning in the words. They tugged at memories that he couldn't quite grasp. "You were mine once." There had been more, there were so many things in Sam's mind that lurked just outside his reach. He sighed and turned to face his brother, "Can we go now?"

Stepping in slightly, Dean allowed the faintest smile to tug his lips up. "Where would we go Sammy?" He asked softly and let his hand come up to cup Sam's face. "There's nowhere left. We're safe here, I promise." He didn't add that he was still Sam's, would always be his until the end of days. At this point, he didn't even _know_ this Sam, and it would take a very long time to cover everything they had to talk about.

As he closed his eyes, Sam turned his face into Dean's palm, lips dragging over his brother's calloused skin. "Okay," he mumbled. "Is it now? Am I...back?" He kept his eyes closed as he soaked in the tenderness of his brother's touch.

"I hope so Sam, I don't know why but... I hope you are," he watched Sam's lips along his skin and took an almost unconscious step forward.

Castiel appeared out of nowhere and cleared his throat. "Dean. Sam," he looked at them both for a long moment before clearing his throat. "Dean, might I have a word?"

Sighing softly, Dean nodded once before turning back to his brother. "I'm going to step outside for a minute. There's some food and water over there," he gestured to the kitchen fashioned area. "There’s also a big pot of water you could use to wash up if you'd like. I'll be right back okay?" He knew he was still standing too close to Sam and he could feel Castiel's eyes boring into his back.

"Okay," Sam moved over to the pot of water, managing to keep his eyes on the angel and his _brother_ as they left the room.

Following Castiel out back, Dean stopped them before they could go too far. He wanted to be able to see the cabin without an issue. "What is it Cas, problems with the group?" His eyes slid to Castiel for a moment before fixing on the cabin.

"Dean, after all these years must we dance around the issue?" Castiel shook his head and folded his arms across his chest, a trait he'd picked up after so many years of Dean's constant company.

Turning back to the angel, Dean blew out a quick breath and rolled his eyes. "Gonna lecture me about being there for my brother? Because I'd rather we not do this. It's hard enough as it is without having to answer to you as well."

Castiel's gaze didn’t waver, but his eyes narrowed. "I believe that was the issue that first led us to this place; you and him. It cannot happen again Dean, you know this."

"Digging at old wounds already huh?" Dean mimicked the action, eyes narrowing, arms crossed defiantly. "This isn't even the same Sam. He hardly remembers anything at all. Obviously, he's done _something_ to free himself."

"Did you ever think that Lucifer might have released him for a reason?" Castiel frowned and stepped toward Dean. "He doesn't do things without reason, and despite how strong you may think your brother is, _no one_ is strong enough to escape him Dean. No...clearly this is his plan and you are falling right into it."

"You said Lucifer wasn't there at all, it's not like he has cameras hooked up around here to spy on us," Dean snapped, gesturing around the wilderness. "Can he really know _exactly_ what's going on? You think he's planted some sort of tracker on Sam? Because I'm fairly certain _you_ took care of that years ago."

Castiel fell into silence for awhile, long enough for Dean to consider turning around and stomping back to the cabin, before he spoke quietly, "You know why things cannot be between you and Sam. All you're doing is setting yourself up for an inevitable downfall Dean. That time will come, I know you know this. Do you really want to throw away your life?"

"Throw away my _life_?" Dean dropped his arms, jaw slackening. "Castiel, Sam _is_ my life. He always will be. Even now, despite _everything_ that’s happened, he still is. I don't know why he's here, and I don't even know if I _care_ why. What matters is that he _is_ here, that's enough for me. Now, you can make yourself useful and support me on this, or we can drop it for good. Because either way, it's not a subject we're fighting over any longer."

Momentarily shaken by Dean's words, Castiel stared at him with wide eyes before his head dropped. "You will remember one day, Dean Winchester. When Sam has returned to his normal self," he looked at the cabin as he added quietly, "I could do that. I could restore him for you. And then you would see."

Breath stuttering in his chest, Dean let his eyes settle on Castiel's form. "You can bring back his memories? What about... his time as a vessel? Will he remember that?"

"I cannot say," Castiel said, eyes meeting his as he frowned, "It would be a risk."

Taking a few steps towards the cabin and away from Castiel, Dean hesitated just long enough to say, "I'll talk to him about it," before continuing on. He didn't tell Castiel he was wrong about them because it was something an angel could never understand. _No one_ could understand the thing between him and Sam. Sometimes Dean couldn't even understand it. Shaking his head, Dean crossed the rest of the way to the cabin and slid back inside, eyes skittering across the large room before finally settling on Sam. "Did you get a little more cleaned up? And get something to drink?" He asked softly, crossing to him.

"Yes," Sam turned slowly, hair still dripping slightly on his face and shirt. "Where is Castiel?" Sam peered over Dean's shoulder as he pushed his hair back off his face, "Is he gone?" He didn't want any more angels near him. _No more_. A shadow of worry passed over his mood.

Dean nodded and headed towards his dresser to retrieve one of the towels he kept there. "Here, use this to dry off," he smiled softly and slid forward to grab himself a bottle of water and a protein bar. "Castiel won't be bothering us for awhile. But... there was something I wanted to ask you about."

Sam ran his hands over the soft towel for a few moments, and then rubbed it slowly against his hair. "Okay," more questions, Sam was starting to think that there were going to be more questions than he had answers. He finished rubbing his hair dry and stood nervously by the table, working his fingers in the soft material.

Taking a long drink from his water bottle, Dean silently turned over the ways to phrase the question before simply sighing and shaking his head. "Castiel can fix you. He can restore your memories. I'd like... if this is something you‘d want, then we can do it. You would remember things: your life, me, and what we used to be. You wouldn't be so confused," he glanced up at Sam, wishing he could just demand that Sam do this because it would make things a hell of a lot easier.

Sam's thumbs moved over the soft material of the towel. "You want me to? Remember?" Sam moved a step closer, wanting the heat of Dean's body again. "Will you and I ..." Sam's mind was so cloudy, there were so many half finished pictures, "Will you stay with me while he makes me remember?" Growing agitation set Sam's body in motion. He started to pace again, toward the bed at first, then around the edge of the room like a cat skirting the boundaries of its territory.

Watching his brother with steady eyes Dean nodded. "I will," Dean pursed his lips and stepped forward, catching Sam in his steps and curling a hand loosely around his arm. "It can happen in here and I'll be right next to you. There's nothing to be worried about," he rubbed his thumb along Sam's arm softly. "It would be for the best."

"Yes, if it's what you want." Sam shifted his weight to his back foot, glancing around the room but twisted his arm in Dean's grip so he could curl his fingers around his brother's forearm. Sam trusted Dean. _Dean always told the truth._ He nodded slowly, "Will it be now? Will he ... Castiel, come now?"

Dean glanced toward the door and shook his head. "No, I think he'll wait until I go get him, we sort of... had a disagreement," Dean looked down and released his hold on Sam's arm, turning slightly. He wanted Sam back to his normal self, but he hadn't given too much thought to what that really meant. Now though, his own mind went rushing back through all those years, all those memories Sam would have once more. Dean felt temporarily indecisive on the subject and he sighed, crossing over to the bed and dropping down, "I'm getting too old for this shit."

Sam drifted over to the bed behind Dean, standing hesitantly beside it for a few moments before kneeling on the edge, tucking one leg under himself and sitting down facing his brother. "Do you _want_ me to remember?" Sam's fingers reached out for his brother, sliding under his palm and grasping Dean's hand. "Your hand is smaller than mine now, when we were kids..." he frowned rubbing his thumb over the backs of Dean's fingers. The memories would come close to him and then withdraw, lost in the murkiness.

 _"Yes," Dean said without the hesitation he was feeling. "It'sw22;there's no telling how long it would take for you to remember on your own. If you get your memories back... maybe we'll know why or how you got free," Dean looked over at him before dropping his gaze. "You're remembering when we were kids? Anything in particular?"_

 _"You told me the truth," the words slipped easily from Sam's lips, "Dad said there were ... there was nothing that could hurt me." Sam looked into Dean's eyes, fingers still moving over his brother's hand as though re-learning the feel of it. "You were the one who warned me," Sam's eyes narrowed, "You've warned me about so many things.” He rubbed at his cheek and shifted closer to Dean._

 _Dean nodded and tightened his hand in Sam's. "Not enough things," he said quietly and, on impulse, brought Sam's hand up to his mouth, pressing his lips onto the top of his hand._

 _Sam's lips twitched and he smiled slightly. He rubbed at his eye with his free hand. "Have I been gone long from you?" There was sadness in Dean, evident in the way he held himself as though there had been _too much_ and he'd just stopped feeling it somehow. He was hardened, strong, and impenetrable._

Dean shook his head as he blew out a slow breath, and stared hard down at the ground, "It's been about five years since I last saw you." Glancing up at Sam with sad eyes, his lips turned down into a deep frown. "Before that, three months. So, it’s been awhile. A really long time; longer than that even, but that's a bit harder to explain."

"Longer? Are you glad that I'm back? If w22; _when_ I remember, will you be okay? Will things be better?" Sam tilted his head to the side.

"I guess it depends," Dean tightened his grip on Sam's hand, squeezing comfortingly and then releasing it. "We'll have a lot to talk about, Sam. I won't lie to you... things were pretty bad between us in the end," he met Sam's gaze, holding it as he went on. "A lot of things happened. We both said and did some not so good things. I've had time to... to get over things. But," he shook his head, "We really shouldn't try to talk about any of this until after you remember. It'll just leave you with more questions than anything else."

Sam nodded, his free hand curling over the top of Dean's thigh. Leaning toward his brother, he rubbed his cheek along the reddish-brown stubble on his brother's chin. "Alright," he said his voice hardly above a whisper.

Blinking rapidly, Dean pursed his lips and turned to his brother slightly. Their lips were so close his heart kick started in his chest. _Too long_. The thought bounced around his head for a moment before he pushed up off the bed. "So, this is something you want to do then? Get your memories back? Because I think we should do it sooner rather than later."

Sam nodded, fingers drifting up to thread through his still damp hair. "I'm ready." He didn't actually have any idea what he was inviting, but he knew enough to trust Dean. _Trust his brother_. Pulling his legs up under him, he sat cross-legged on the bed watching Dean's back.

"Alright, I'm going to go get Castiel. Drink some water and try to eat something. I don't know how this is going to affect you but you should have some food in you," Dean crossed to the kitchen and grabbed another bottle of water and a protein bar, soon returning and handing it to Sam. "Tastes like crap but it'll hold you over. We'll have something better later on."

Sam took the bar and tugged on the corner of the package with his teeth, pulling it out and biting into it. He chewed quietly as he watched Dean leave the room. _Remembering_ was going to change everything, he could tell by Dean's face and by the way his mood had changed.

Dean used the walk across the camp to debate whether or not bringing Sam's memories back was the best decision. No doubt there were pros and cons. Dean didn't bother making a list of them, but he tried his hardest to reassure himself that the pros outweighed the cons. Dean needed answers, Sam wouldn't have them until he could remember everything. The camp they called home was near several large fields of wheat and corn they could use for food. Most days, the men and women who lived in the spattering of cabins were out in those fields, so it wasn't hard to find Castiel.

There were those among the group who believed that the cause of the Apocalypse was something spiritual, (Dean silently referred to them as ‘The Bible Thumpers’) and they tended to flock around Castiel like he was... well, an angel. Sometimes, Castiel would humor them and tell stories of the _old days_. Dean discouraged the practice as often as he could. He didn't need people worshipping Castiel, it made things complicated, and Dean didn't think Castiel realized that sometimes their devotion extended beyond a love for his absent father.

Currently, Castiel was standing outside the cabin he shared with a few of the other men in the camp. Dean could tell by the look on his face that the angel was lost in thought, probably worried about Sam and his situation. "Cas," he called, waiting for the angel to turn toward him before continuing, "We've decided to do it. Come on."

Castiel seldom looked happy in this world but Dean could see the faintest wave of relief wash over his face. He didn't waste any breath trying to tell him that he shouldn't be relieved. No matter what Castiel thought, the return of Sam's memories wasn't going to snap him into some sudden realization. He couldn't speak for Sam, but at this point he couldn't imagine turning the man away. "This is what you'd like to do?" Castiel asked as they made their way back across the grounds to Dean's cabin.

Dean nodded, "It's for the best." He slid his eyes over to the angel, "Cas, you know I'm not going to send Sam out into this world alone right? Maybe he'll remember something important and we can find out about Lucifer's plan. With this technique we could stop him."

As they stepped in front of the cabin, Castiel peered at the wooden door before turning to Dean, "Stop him from what? He has already ended the world."

Dean's lips turned down as he fixed his gaze on the angel, "Cas..." He'd never fathomed the idea that Castiel might one day resign himself to this fate of being stuck on earth in a vessel, simply because his fellow angels had rejected him and his father was impossible to find.

"We should begin this soon, it may take awhile," Castiel said softly and pulled the door open for Dean.  
After a moments’ hesitation, he stepped through it, fixing his eyes on his brother to ensure that he was still safe and sound as they walked inside. "Alright Cas, so how do we do this?"

"You should both be comfortable," Castiel advised, glancing toward Sam. "This process shall take some time and might be painful. Dean, I fathom you will seek to make him more comfortable as he is scared already," Castiel said, gesturing toward the bed where Sam sat.

"Comfortable?" Sam looked from Dean to the angel and shifted back on the bed. "Dean?" He tried to keep the worry out of his voice, but his body had a mind of its own. He started to shiver again and tugged the blanket up over him.

"It's okay Sam," Dean smiled reassuringly at his brother, slipping more easily into his ‘big brother’ role than he ever thought possible. Climbing onto the bed beside Sam, he took his hand and held it tightly. "Cas, can you explain what it's going to be like?"

Castiel shook his head, "I'm sorry, I do not really know." His eyes lingered on the two brothers for a moment longer before he stepped forward. "I shall lay my hands on your head Sam and your memories will return. It may hurt like I mentioned, and you will likely feel a little overwhelmed once it is finished, but you will remember everything."

Sam throat worked as he tried to swallow, "It’ll hurt." His voice was soft as he leaned against Dean's shoulder and curled his fingers into Dean's thigh.

"I'll be here the entire time," Dean said softly and freed his hand to wrap around Sam's back.

Nodding, Sam pulled his knees up almost to his chest and kept watchful eyes on Castiel.

"Whenever you are ready," the angel extended his arms, hands hovering expectantly beside Sam. His eyes watched Sam carefully before his hands came to settle on either side of the man’s head, and he focused in on his healing powers. "Okay. Here we go."

Sam shied away from Castiel's fingers, sinking down into the firm mattress. His fingers tightened on Dean's hand and thigh, and his eyes started to flutter as the room around him darkened and slipped away. There was silence and light; then Sam's entire body jolted under Castiel's touch. It felt like all of Sam's bones were going to snap under the pressure of holding still. His fingers crushed Dean's hand with the feeling of too much of everything trying to rush into too little space too quickly. Sam's hand clenched down on Dean's thigh and his neck wrenched in Castiel's firm grip. The pressure and violence of the angel's mind reaching into his was overpowering. "No," Sam murmured as his fingers reached blindly across his body to tangle in Dean's shirt. "Hurts," he moaned.

"Castiel, Stop!" Dean hollered, tugging Sam until he was half on top of him, trying to break the angel's hold on his brother. Castiel simply shook his head and Dean stared down at Sam in concern, trying to soothe him with gentle words. "It's for the best. You'll remember soon," he shifted forward and pressed his lips against Sam's forehead.

 _Sammy is five years old and he's excited. He can hear something on the TV he wants to watch and he runs. He runs fast because Sammy's five years old. He's also still clumsy with his long legs, and he trips, crashing his head into the corner of the coffee table. Everything goes all different and Sammy can't see properly; it's dark and muffled and all Sammy can hear is the gentle rumble of his brother's voice._

 _"Oh Sammy, always fallin' over things," Dean says, scooping his brother up and carrying him over to the couch, dropping down with the boy in his lap and lifting up his bangs to check the wound. "No blood this time. Its okay little man, don't gotta cry. Look, your show is on! You wanna watch with me?" Dean angle's the little boy to see the TV, swiping at the tears on his cheeks._

 _Sammy is happy because Dean always fixes things so he nestles against his brother's chest and watches the TV. Dean is warm and he smells clean like the laundry Dad pulls out of the dryer._

Sam's body has stopped thrashing against him and Dean's eyes snap open frantically, staring down at his brother in concern. There's a certain level of softness to his features that has Dean glancing up at Castiel. The angel's eyes are a vivid blue and he nods to Dean. Dean wondered what memories Sam was lost in currently, as his hand stroked through Sam's hair, anchoring him to this world.

 _It's the middle of summer and Sam is exhausted. He spent the entire day trailing around behind Dean as they hunted for frogs in the shallow water just at the edge of the lake shore. Dean had a jar full by the end of the day but he'd let Sam dump it back into the water because the idea of keeping the frogs had upset him; they should be swimming. Even though Sam was already twelve years old Dean still did things sometimes just to make Sam smile. Sam knew that. Even at twelve, he would stare into Dean's face as he fell asleep, already realizing just how beautiful his brother was._

 _Camping is their father's idea. There's a tent for each of them, small, like a long plastic Toblerone bar that Sam has to slide into and zip up. Sam had made sure that his tent was in between Dean's and his Dad's. Just in case. It's cold even though its summertime and Sam's got the sleeping bag clutched in his finger tips, yanked all the way up to his chin. Just in case. His eyelids are heavy and he falls asleep quickly to the smell of fresh air, wisps of campfire smoke on everything, and the sound of crickets._

 _Some part of Sam's mind knows that he's having a nightmare. There are voices, one voice in particular he hates, and he's running and running and he can't seem to get anywhere. It's horrible and Sam can't wake up, can't pull himself out of it._

 _Dean can hear his brother tossing and turning, can hear his soft whimpers of fear. It pulls him from his sleep and he crawls out of his tent and stumbles over to Sam's, dragging his sleeping bag with him. "It's okay Sammy, I'm here," he soothes and slides in beside Sam, unzipping the bag and maneuvering until he can bring his brother into his arms and drape the sleeping bag over them, "Bad dream?"_

 _Shaking against his brother's chest Sam nods quickly and burrows in. "Same one... can't wake up sometimes. I think ... I think something bad is gonna happen to us one day Dean. I think that's what I'm supposed to know." Sam's small heart is clattering around in his chest and Dean can feel it even more now that he's crushed up against his body._

 _"Nothing bad will happen," Dean reassures his brother and holds him tightly. "Not as long as I'm here to look after you. Now get some sleep, I won't go anywhere. Tomorrow we're climbing the mountain." He trails a hand through Sam's hair and lets his eyes fall close._

 _Sam's more than willing to believe what Dean says; maybe because he's tired or maybe because Dean is still his hero. When you're sixteen you're like God - you know everything. Sam's smart enough to know that Dean can fix most anything. "Climbing a mountain," Sam mumbles against Dean's chest. He likes the feel of Dean's fingers in his hair, it's soothing and sends little shivers of joy down Sam's spine._

 _The back seat of the car smells like leather and left over food from the last drive-through. Dean never remembers to throw the bags out when he's finished eating. Sam's stretched his sixteen year old frame along the back seat and it's not nearly long enough; he's already so tall, long legs and arms jutting out at all angles in the back seat. Sam's been dozing, he seems to sleep a lot lately - Dad says it's because he's growing and he needs a lot of rest. Sometimes, Sam thinks that Dean slips sleeping pills in his soda because he's always complaining about how fidgety his little brother is._

 _Sam keeps his eyes closed and listens to the deep sounds of his father's voice as he and Dean talk over a case. He loves listening to them talk. Their voices are similar but Dean's has a more gentle tone to it, especially when he speaks to Sam._

 _Yawning and stretching as much as he can in the confined space, Sam pushes up and leans on the seat between the two older Winchesters. Sliding his arm along the seat behind Dean, Sam settles his fingers against the nape of his brother's neck and curls them slightly in his brother's hair. It's soft there, that spot where no one else touches. Sam leans his head forward to hide his fingers and yawns, "Dad where are we?" Though, he's not really listening to his father's response._

 _Dean turned to his brother and smiled, leaning back into the touch, "Middle of butt fuck nowhere." Dean chuckled and let the noise morph into a full belly laugh as their father said something about his language. "Got another six hours or so to go before we get there; want some candy? I've got Twizzlers," Dean offered up the bag to his brother and let his fingers slide along his forearm._

 _Sam took the bag and smiled. He liked this game. He liked seeing how much they could touch each other without anyone noticing. Pulling the bag over the back seat, Sam lay down and used his bunched up jacket as a pillow. He slipped his hand along the door until he could reach the patch of skin above Dean's pants. It’s warm and smooth as his fingers graze over it, and he sucks on a Twizzler, grinning._

 _With a glance over his shoulder, Dean smiled at his brother and reached out saying, "Hand me one of those, you hog." He extends his hand for the candy and takes it when offered, sucking it into his mouth._

"It's been almost an hour Cas, how long is this going to take?" Dean turned to the angel, eyes narrowed with concern.

Castiel lifted a shoulder shrugging, and shook his head, face still scrunched in concentration. Dean couldn't tell if this drained his energy just by looking at him, but he had a fairly good idea that it had to be affecting him somehow. He hoped this wasn't going to take days; Sam had over thirty years of memories to catch up on.

 _Sam's clutching Dean to his chest. He saw his brother get slammed into and dragged up a wall – like in some screwed up horror movie…by a **demon**. Sam's just been dragged out hunting by Dean; what the hell does he even know about hunting anyway? He was in the middle of law school a few weeks ago and now, he's kneeling in a warehouse somewhere and holding onto his brother's broken body. There's blood all over Dean's face and Sam's rocking him, he's terrified. Dean always says not to take him to a hospital, but what if something's really wrong? What if this time Sam can't patch him up? _

_Smoothing back Dean's hair from his forehead, Sam murmurs his name over and over. He got rid of the demon. He doesn't even know how w22; they exchanged words and Sam had salt and it's all a blur. But, he couldn't stop looking at Dean's face._

 _He shakes his brother gently, "Dean?" Sam tries to stem the flow of blood by wiping at Dean's forehead with the cuff of his shirt.  
"M'fine," Dean mutters and tries to push up, his head spinning. "Whoa. Okay, slight head. rush. No biggie. Just... help me up," Dean curls his fingers into Sam's shirt and blinks blood out of his eyes. "Is the demon gone?"_

 _Sam feels relief flood through him as he mops up the blood, trying to help clear his brother's vision. "Yeah, it's gone. Dean, you scared the shit out of me. Can you move? Do you feel okay?" Sam could finally feel his heart starting to slow down._

 _"Ugh I feel like I just got thrown up against wall and then pummeled by a demon," he smirks at his brother, leaning into him, "And hey, I did. So it's fitting. Let's get back to the motel. I gotta... be horizontal for awhile."_

 _Pulling Dean up off the floor was easier now that Sam was the taller one. He wrapped his arm across Dean's back whispering, "Don't do that again, just don't." Sam can't resist turning his face into Dean's hair and breathing in._

 _Leaning heavily into Sam's side, he chuckled softly, "No Sammy, not planning on it." He sighed and slid his arm around Sam's waist, pressing in further, "Thanks."_

 _"Dude, did you see the way that thing's head exploded?" Dean laughs and kicks his boots off, tugging the leather coat from his shoulders and draping it over the nearest chair. "One bullet through his skull and it was like wham bam thank you ma'am," another laugh and he stretches his arms high above his head, popping his back, "Almost worked out all the tension in my body."_

 _"Don't worry," Sam's laughing even though it was a tense night, "I think the rest will be gone soon." He leans over and grabs two beers out of the small fridge, handing one to his brother. "You're like a kid who was just playing paintball or something...you'd never know it was actually dangerous," Sam shakes his head but he's still smiling._

 _"Those are the best kind of hunts man," Dean tugs his over shirt off, fists balling up and tossing it across the room. Walking towards Sam, he takes the offered beer and twists off the cap, draining half the contents and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, "Could go for a massage... or something," he grins and arches his eyebrows suggestively._

 _"You’re drooling beer, Mr. Sexy," says Sam, leaning forward and lapping the beer off of his brother's chin. Then, he licks his own lips and grins. "I vote for the ‘or something’ option." Grabbing the bottom of his shirt, he stretches as he pulls it off over his head and lets it fall from his fingers. "Unless," he leans forward to brush his lips across Dean's cheek, "You meant you wanted to give **me** a massage." Sam's nose twitches as he tries not to smile._

 _Smirking slightly, Dean curls his fingers into Sam's waistband and tugs him back as he tips back the bottle and drains the rest of its contents before aiming it at the trash can. "I'll give you a massage," he works quickly at the button and zipper, shoving roughly at the denim, "The best kind," he says as he leans forward and bites down onto Sam's collarbone, sucking away the sting a moment later. "I bet you're still ready for me, huh?"_

 _Breath catching in his chest as heat begins to flare, Sam smiles and slides his broad hands up his brother's back, "Every time," he murmurs, "every time you touch me it's so fuckin' hot." Laughing low the way Dean says he does when he's turned on, Sam rolls his hips forward. Dean's hard already, and Sam's heart lurches in his chest. It doesn't matter how many times they do this, it feels like the first time all over again._

 _Moaning in pleasure, Dean shoves Sam down onto the bed, then stares down at him as he slips out of his jeans and boxers and crawls over him. "Fuck, do you know how bad I want you?" He drags his body along Sam's, rocking their hips together. "Feel that? All for you Sammy," he slants his lips over Sam's and thrusts his tongue forward._

 _It's easy to fall on the bed and easier still to be pressed into the mattress by Dean. There’re so many things in their lives that take so much planning and time and effort, that this is easy. Sam knows all the best ways to touch Dean; he knows how to draw the most amazing sounds out of his brother's mouth: growls, rumbles and even sometimes (what Dean will later deny was) a plea. Dean's hands move over Sam's body with practiced ease and yet, it still manages to catch Sam off guard. It's the tenderness, the passion and the way that Dean's eyes are so dark and glassy, shining in the light of the Motel sign. Sam waits and catches the way Dean's eyes fall closed, lashes kissing his freckled cheeks when he comes and Sam can feel it all within him. It's like fire and he just thinks about how he wants more and forever as he clings to his brother._

 _Sam nearly always falls asleep first, long limbs thrown across the bed and his brother. **Mine**. Sometimes, it's the last word he says before he falls asleep. Dean keeps an eye on his brother's chest, simply watching him breathe in and out. _

_"Damn it Sam!" Dean slams his fist down onto the table and whips around to face his brother. "In less than two months I'm going to be dead; it's already going to hurt you more than anything, but if we keep this up... it's just going to hurt more. I don't want to put you through any more misery than I have to."_

 _Sam can't do much but stand there and shake his head. He knows what Dean's like when he makes up his mind about something. He's standing there in the middle of the room, his body vibrating with anger. "You don't get to make this decision on your own. I mean, why?" He throws his hands up in the air. "Why do you get to say what's going to make me miserable? How the fuck do you know?" He paces toward the bathroom door, then turns around and comes back, "I can't believe you! You're being selfish and unfair and... and... I'm **not** going along with this." He runs his fingers through his hair, lips twitching, and eyes blazing._

 _"You can fight it all you want Sam but this is my decision. You can't have sex with me by yourself," he forces a chuckle and grabs his coat from the chair, sliding his arms into the sleeves. "I can't allow this to happen anymore, not with my end so near. I'm sorry, but this is the way it has to be."_

 _"Don't...don't do this...Dean, please. I can't... I don't want to be alone through this." The thought of not touching Dean, of not feeling his heart beating against his back at night, is breaking his heart. "I ... can't do this." Sam's feet won't stop moving and he's grabbing Dean's arm, holding him, trying to pull him back from wherever the hell he seems to be going. Sam's panicking. His whole life Dean's never turned him away, never said ‘No’ to something Sam wanted._

 _"You'll be alone when I'm gone Sam, you have to face that eventually," Dean steps forward and pulls Sam close, "Until then, I’m your brother, as I will always be. But, just your brother, not anything more." He curls his fingers into Sam's shirt above his heart, meeting his eyes. "This is how it's going to be Sam. Please don't make it harder for us. I only have a little bit of time left."_

 _Closing his eyes, Sam slides his hand around the back of Dean's neck and presses his lips to his brother's. "Please," he murmurs against Dean's mouth, "…don't. Don't you do this," He's crying. Yeah, it means that much; Dean means **that much**. His hands move over Dean, everywhere he can touch. He knows the battle will be lost if he lets Dean walk out the door._

 _Curling his arms around him, Dean sighs heavily into Sam’s neck and lifts his head for one last brush of their lips. "I'm gonna go for a drive. Try to clear my head. When I come back... we’re only brothers," his fingers curve along Sam's cheeks, "You understand?"_

 _"What if I won't be here?" Sam's jaw is set. He doesn't know how to do this, how to let Dean go again._

 _Dean stares at Sam with hurt eyes, "Then remember that I will always love you." He steps back and wipes at the burning tears in his eyes, "I'm sorry it had to be this way Sam." He turns and heads for the door, tugging it open and shutting it quietly behind him._

 _"Fuck you," Sam says quietly at the door. They both know he'll be there when Dean comes back; huddled in his own bed hoping that Dean has changed his mind. They both know that Dean won’t change his mind_.

 _Ruby **is** the blood. There's no difference in Sam's body or his mind. She gets what she wants and Sam gets what he wants. He gets to forget and he gets to be stronger. The feeling is amazing, hot and sharp all at once when the barely restrained power surges through him. He'll go out to see her if that's what he has to do. He'll even go through the motions of fucking her, he doesn't care as long as he can slide that knife across her flesh and suck out that dark, thick nectar. _

_Once, twice, it's all the same to Sam. Dean is gone and Sam slides out of the room at night to slam Ruby up against a wall and fuck into her while he sucks the fresh wound on her neck._

 _Sometimes, Sam lets her come into his motel room. She likes to pretend she's his girlfriend or something else fake like that; it doesn't matter to Sam. That's where she is when there's a knock on his door. He pushes her roughly to the side and gets up to yank the door open as he wipes the rest of the blood from his lips._

 _"Sammy," Dean breathes; his eyes linger on his brother, then, registering the girl standing behind him, flare with a sharp flash of pain that’s gone as soon as he steps toward his brother._

 _In the space of a few seconds Sam's heart flops and he lunges at Dean with the silver knife in his hand. It slices Dean's hand and they stumble back into the room, locked in an embrace as Sam grabs a flask of holy water and flings it at Dean's face. His heart pounding, Sam softens his grip on Dean's arms, "You're... **you** ," glancing back over his shoulder at Ruby he blinks, "Go! You need to go." She hurries to grab the rest of her clothes and darts out the door. She knows who Dean is w22; knows how he's not going to understand. The door clicks shut and Sam falls against Dean, wrapping his arms tight around his brother's neck. No one gets a ticket back out of hell, no one, but this... this is his brother._

 _Stepping into him Dean holds his brother tightly, hands stroking his hair, "I'm back Sammy, I'm back..." he leans into the warmth of Sam, letting the man support his weight. When he pulls back a moment later he smiles softly, "Who's the broad?"_

 _"She's just... we ... I picked her up." Sam's hands moved up to slide around his brother's face. "How... fuck, I didn't ... I couldn't get you back. I tried." Sam's brow furrows, he did try. It's why he feels so hollow; there was nothing he could do to get Dean back. He’d lost him again._

 _"It's okay Sammy... I'm here now," Dean steps in and pulls him forward for another tight hug._

 _Dean's gone out for some reason, Sam can't even remember why. He just knew he had time to get a phone call to Ruby and tell her to get her ass over to the room._

 _Now, Sam's hands slide up Ruby's side under the shirt over her flesh, her **borrowed** flesh, he tries never to think about that. Images of his brother flash through his mind like camera flashes and he slams his eyes shut, trying to fight them off. Sam's huge hand slides over Ruby's thigh, yanking her leg up as he lifts her and slams her against the wall. She's wrapped around him and all he cares about is the blood. He brings his hand up, sliding the knife along her neck before nipping it into her skin, and dropping his mouth down to capture the surge of red liquid. Sucking and lapping, Sam's hips rocks up into her the same time his tongue pulses against his drug. It's warm and thick and he swallows as much as he can. Now that Dean's back Sam never knows when he can find time for this, make time for what he truly needs. There's nothing else when his mouth is drawing up the heady liquid, nothing. It's the only time he forgets that Dean doesn't touch him anymore._

 _Dean busts the door open, speaking the second he crosses the threshold, "Sam I can't take it anymore I _need_ youw22;" The sight before him flashes and he stumbles back, bumping into the table, jaw dropped. "Sam, Iw22;I...what the **fuck**?"_

Sam springs back from Ruby, dropping the knife to the floor and wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, "Dean ... I didn't know... it's not what you think." His eyes dart between Ruby and Dean, "Ruby, get out of here." His voice is urgent; his thoughts racing.

"You were..." Dean's eyes bounce between the two of them. "Sam you were drinking her **blood**. And Iw22;I thought... you two have been... **fuck** ," he spins and slams his hand down onto the table, and shakes his head. "No Ruby, you can stay. I'm getting the fuck out of here," he crosses the room and grabs his duffel bag.

"Dean no, you don't understand. You don't know what it was like. I was alone and I ... I didn't know what to do. Ruby helped me and I'm part of all of this," Sam throws his arms out wide, "I needed Ruby's help, I still need her help." He's desperate, this can't happen again. He can't lose Dean again; there's nothing left inside of Sam to break.

"She's using you Sam! I can fucking see that and I barely even know what's going on. I can't believe you fucking trust her to... to..." Dean slid his bag over his shoulder, turning to Sam with tear stained eyes. "I don't even know you anymore. My brother would never do something like this. You've been doing it this whole time? When I thought we were... and I wanted to be..." Dean shook his head roughly and brushed past Sam to the door, shooting a glare at Ruby before calling out over his shoulder, "You've crossed a line Sam and I just hope you can get back on the right side of things before you fuck everything up."

The sound of the door slamming reverberates around the room. Sam just stands there. There's no point in trying to go after Dean. There's no point in anything. Sam's screwed up so much; He's lost the way back. All that’s left is the feel of Ruby's hand, cool and small against his cheek.

 _Sam did it. He broke the final seal and opened the way for Lucifer. He could apologize for the rest of his life, but there's no one left to listen. He's alone. He's been alone since Dean left him three months ago. There was nothing else to do but what Ruby convinced him of. She tricked him, in the end, but it didn't matter. She lied to him, just like everyone else lied to him. Mom said angels would watch over him. Dean said he'd never leave him. Ruby said Sam could stop Lucifer from rising._

 _Lucifer is an Angel. Sam's always known that but he's still surprised the first time he sees him. He's beautiful, like Castiel, like Anna, like every angel that Sam has ever seen. His voice is peaceful, calm, and though the words are still unclear, Sam knows the feeling of his head nodding and his hand extending as he says ‘Yes’. He says ‘Yes’. Sam agrees to be Lucifer's vessel because Dean doesn't want him anymore, doesn't need him, doesn't even care enough to know where Sam is. Because Lucifer offers him a deal he can't refuse, he says ‘Yes' ..._

Sam jolted up off the bed and heaved in a long painful breath. He ached everywhere and his head felt like Castiel had been crushing it in a vice. "Cas," he mumbled, "Fuck, how ... oh my God."


	3. Chapter 3

After rubbing roughly at his eyes, Dean went to soothe Sam but hesitated, pulling his hands back, not sure how things would be now that Sam remembered everything. Castiel's voice cracked beside him and Dean pushed up off the bed, snatching a couple bottles of water and handing one each to Sam and Castiel. "Sam?" He asked softly, sitting slowly on the bed beside him and scanning his features. "How are you feeling?"

Blinking a few times Sam turned his head slowly. "Feeling?" Sam looked back at Castiel and reached out for his hand. "Cas, I'm ... I'm _so_ sorry. I ..." There was so much spinning around in Sam's mind he couldn’t even think. Shoving the water bottle away, Sam pushed up from the bed, stumbling a little on the blanket. "Cas, take me out - I need... I need to see what I did." He knew now, he knew that he said yes to Lucifer. He allowed Lucifer to destroy ... _everything_.

Looking toward Dean with narrowed eyes, Castiel nodded and took Sam's hand, leading him to the back door of the cabin. "You cannot see much from here," he pulled open the door and stepped back to let Sam go before him. "Though if you squint, far off in the distance you can see the ruins of what was once a major city. There are only thirty of us here, though that number changes occasionally as we meet others."

Dean watched them disappear through the door, heart sinking heavily in his chest. That certainly wasn't how Dean imagined Sam would be, but then, he didn't really know his brother anymore and Dean had been aware of that from the moment he saw him again. Pushing up slowly, he followed them to the door, leaning against the wooden frame to watch his brother and Castiel.

Sam's eyes moved over the landscape. It was damp, cold and the sky was a gray, heavy, oppressive mass above them. Thunder rumbled in the distance and the air tasted like a carnival, metallic and sweet. "I did this..." Tears welled up in Sam's eyes. "Cas ... are there? How many people are left? Do you even know?" Sam clutched Castiel's hand, fingers gripping hard onto the angel.

Face twitching slightly, Castiel shook his head, "It is impossible to say. We take in whoever we encounter, but before we found you a few days ago... it had been years since the last survivor." Castiel lifted his eyes to the sky and swept them across the clouds before turning back to Sam. "You were right when you said you’ve done this. But perhaps you being here _now_ can allow you to make some amends for that. What's done is done Sam."

Turning away from them, Dean walked back inside the cabin and sighed. Leave it to Castiel to just lay it on the line like that.

Nodding slowly, Sam rubbed at his face. "I need... to speak to Dean." He held his hand in front of his mouth for a few moments. He didn't even know where to begin. There were so many things that he knew now, things he knew he'd done…so many things he didn't want to feel anymore. "I need to talk to Dean." He turned slowly and squeezed Cas' shoulder as he walked back up to the cabin.

"Sam?" Castiel turned to Sam, stopping him before he could go inside. "Despite the things he clings to now, you brother is not as strong as he may appear to be. It is best if you two do not... complicate issues with each other further."

Appearing in the doorway a moment later, Dean scowled at Castiel, "I can still hear you Cas. And I told you to keep your nose out of it. Tell the others we'll be having a meeting tomorrow about another town raid alright?"

Castiel looked between the two before nodding and stepping back.

Sam walked up to his brother. "I ..." Sam worried his bottom lip for a while staring down at Dean's worn hands. "I don't really know where to start."

"You just got assaulted with thirty years of memory Sam, I don't blame you," Dean turned and walked through to the kitchen, pulling open the cabinet and retrieving a bottle of liquor he kept for special occasions w22; or moments like thisw22; that didn't happen very often."Drink?” He held it up, pulling out two shot glasses and filling them both. "Let's sit," he carried the glasses to the table and kicked out a chair for Sam, dropping into his own.

"Sure," Sam stood where he was , staring at his brother's face. He padded over to the table and sat down curling his fingers around the glass. His fingers moved on the cool surface of the glass. "Dean... what you saw... with Ruby... You never let me explain." Sam reached up to the healing wound on his cheek and rubbed at it for a moment.

Shoulders tensing, Dean sipped from his drink and shook his head. "It's been a long time since then Sam. I... haven't thought about it in years," Dean rubbed at the back of his neck and sighed. "You fuckin' broke me that day Sam. I don't know if I really want to talk about it."

"I broke you..." Sam pushed his drink around on the table with one long finger. Things were just the same as they had always been. "Do you know what you did to me?" He couldn't lift his eyes from the table, didn't dare look at Dean's eyes.

"I never made you drink that blood. I traded my soul for your life and spent _forty_ years in hell. Then I came back and you didn't even... seem interested. Then the day I decide to go to you and tell you I still love you _that_ way and want you _that_ way, I find you fucking a demon and drinking her blood," Dean shook his head and drained the rest of the glass, slamming it back down on the table. "Yeah, clearly I hurt you more than you ever hurt me."

Sam pressed his hands flat on the table and pulled them slowly back towards his lap. "Okay." Sam didn't have a way to let Dean see inside his heart. "I'm sorry," Sam swallowed and stood up, pushing his chair back in and leaning on the back of it. "Is there a place I can stay until I can get myself... get myself sorted out? I'll leave as soon as I'm able." He blinked, his eyes burning. "Maybe I can stay with Cas or something."

"Leave?" Dean lifted his eyes and shook his head. "No Sam. You can't go. There is _nowhere_ to go. You wouldn't make it a day out there alone. This isn't the world you knew. Those things out there... they're Croatoans Sam. You remember them? The Demon Virus?” Dean stared hard at the far wall. "You wanna stay with Cas, that's fine. I'm sure he'd be just fuckin' thrilled about that. But you can't leave this camp if you want to live." His heart stung slightly and he wished those walls were still there around his heart. It was so much easier to not feel when his brother wasn't around.

Sam's hands were shaking on the back of the chair. "What do you want me to do? What's going to make this better, Dean? You don't seem like you want me near you and I don't know what it's like ... here, there w22; wherever." Sam gestured toward the door. "I have no memories from the past however long, what did you say? Five years I was.... Lucifer was... me. I have no idea other than these…wisps and…and..." he took a deep breath, "I don't know how to make you not hate me. You don't want to hear my explanation and maybe I deserve that but I have nothing else to offer." He gasped almost painfully when he finished and leaned even harder on the chair back. "Look, I'll stay wherever the hell you want me to stay and I'll go or leave or ... whatever you want, Dean."

"It's been five years Sam, and I've been all alone," Dean shook his head sadly. "Whatever I want? I want my brother back. I want the last five years to never have happened. I want to know why you weren't strong enough to say no to Lucifer," he fixed his eyes on Sam. "I had to say no to a whole swarm of angels for a fucking long time and sometimes I would have given anything to cave to that but I _never_ did. What did he do to get you to say yes?"

Pushing off the chair hard Sam paced back toward the door. "I don't know, it's ... I only have pieces of that. I was a vessel Dean; I have no idea what he said. I made a deal some kind of deal - fuck - I don't know. I was lonely and lost and I had no one." He tilted his head to the side as the pain shot through him again forcing his eyes closed. "You didn't want me and I hadn't even learned how to deal with that before you were dead. You were dead and in Hell and I couldn't get you back and ..." he took a deep breath. "What you saw, with Ruby? She lied to me and I know that now, but _everyone_ lied to me, Dean. Everyone."

"I lied to you?" Dean asked, his jaw clenched, "I _always_ wanted you Sam. For the record, that never changed. So lay it on me, how did I lie to you? What part of your fucked up mistake is my fault?" Angry tears spilled down Dean's cheeks as he shoved away from the table, pacing angrily across the cabin and away from Sam.

"You said you'd always be with me." Sam leaned against the door and slid down until he was sitting on the floor. His head was throbbing and he could barely see. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes and let his tears fall freely. He was so tired; down to his heart and soul he was tired.

With a soft sigh Dean let his head fall, the anger flaring out of him. "I guess Castiel was right. We _are_ each other's weaknesses." He turned to the side, staring out the window into the empty camp. "Why don't you lay down for awhile? I have to look at some maps. We'll talk later after you've rested." Dean's heart ached and he wondered if this was Lucifer's end game; letting Sam go. Maybe he just wanted to destroy both men because he was bored with his own version of the Apocalypse. He needed a private showing of a Winchester style Apocalypse. They seemed to be good at that.

"Can I go back to the room...the room you had for me? I don't want to be here. I don't imagine anyone else will want me around either." Sam pushed up off the floor slowly, eyes heavy and rubbed at his chest. Every time ... every time he had to hear Dean speak about him like this it opened all the wounds again.

Staring at his brother, Dean tried to ignore the bite at Sam's words, _I don't want to be here_. "Fine," he turned and crossed the room, gathering up a pillow a blanket. "Just follow me," he stalked back to the front door of the cabin, waiting for Sam to join him. Tugging open the door he let his eyes sweep to either side of the clearing before leading Sam across the way and through the trees to the small building they'd kept him in before. He pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the door, tugging it open and stepping to the side. "Lock it. Don't answer unless it's Cas or me. No one knows much about you yet and people have a tendency not to trust strangers anymore."

Nodding, Sam held out his hands for the pillow and blanket. "Thanks ... and thank you for being so ... comforting before Castiel made me... I remember. It was… well, thanks." Averting his eyes Sam dropped his shoulders.

"I wouldn't have done it if I didn't want to," Dean said softly and turned away. "I'll be back later to bring you some food." He pulled in a quick breath and forced himself to walk away, back to his cabin.

Sam padded across the empty room and collapsed on the bed in a heap barely able to tug the blanket over him. All those years of memories crammed back into his head and all he could think about was the fact that his brother couldn't forgive him. His tears began to flow again and didn't stop until long after he had fallen into an exhausted sleep.

Sam jolted awake. He was terrified. It took him a few minutes to orient himself within the room, the room that Dean had brought him to. Shivering, Sam looked around the moonlit space. The window was small and suddenly, Sam wanted to get out - breathe - be somewhere else. When he finally managed to get to his feet, his legs were wobbly and weak. Stumbling forwards, he tugged on the door knob, taking a few moments to realize he had forgotten to unlock it. He flipped the bolt and eased the door open so he could peer out into the hall. There wasn't a sound but the rustling of wind through trees. Sam's eyes moved over the landscape. He was willing to bet that Dean had chosen the site for their camp: high ground, cover, he could even hear a stream nearby, and he saw only one ravine leading into the camp. Looking back across the clearing, Sam was willing to bet there was a way out at the back, well hidden, camouflaged somehow.

Slipping along the wall Sam moved silently re-tracing his steps. _Dean_.

When he reached his brother's cabin he was frozen; his feet damp from the dew covered grass. Shaking, Sam tapped quietly on the door.

Dean didn't sleep a lot on normal circumstances, even less with the confusion stirred up by Sam's appearance, and he already knew when the knock sounded that it was his brother there. Castiel's knock was different. No one else would come to his door in the middle of the night unless it was an emergency. With a soft sigh, he pushed up from the maps on the table that he'd been studying and crossed the cabin, turning the lock and pulling the door open. His eyes slid along his brother's frame for a moment before he reached out and took his arm, pulling him inside. "Sam," he said softly, shutting the door and turning the lock before staring at the place his hand connected to Sam's arm.

Cold, still tired and sore, Sam swayed a little from side to side. He smiled and shrugged a shoulder, "Nightmare," he said softly like it explained everything hanging so heavy between them. Almost falling forward he threw his arms around Dean's shoulders and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping like hell that Dean wouldn't push him away. He needed this, needed something to bring the rest of him back; Sam had been gone for _too_ long.

If it had been years ago Dean might have teased him, ruffled his hair and told him everything was going to be alright. Dean couldn't get his throat to work around those words though, so he simply stepped forward and wrapped his arms tight around Sam. It was different from hugging the Sam without memories. This was truly his _brother_ and Dean's heart ached and swelled at the same time, almost too overloaded from the onslaught of having this man back after so very long. "You can stay here," he said softly, curling his fingers into Sam's back.

Nodding against his brother's cheek, Sam just held on. "I'm sorry," he whispered, "I know things can't ever be the same and I don't expect you to forgive me or ... whatever, but… I'm sorry." He pressed his lips to Dean's cheek. Just once. Chaste, soft, quiet and calm. It was all he had to give that was really his.

Pulling back to meet his brother's eyes, Dean cupped Sam's face between his palms and sighed, "There's a whole lotta things we still have to talk about Sam. But you should know... I have forgiven you. It's been a long time... I've... I've had my time to get over the anger and hurt. I still want some answers, and I'd rather not going into all of that right now but... I'm not _mad_ at you. Hurt still, yeah." He shrugged and stepped back, gesturing toward the table. "I've gotta finish up on some routes here. You wanna lie down? Or... you could help me?" He swallowed and turned slightly, staring across the cabin at the table and willing the pain in his chest away along with the tingling on his cheek.

"I can help. I'd like to help. I'd like to go with you ... you said there was a raid." Sam padded over to the table. "And... can I borrow some socks? I need shoes too." Sam smiled and shrugged then pressed his lips together. "What are we doing?" He ran his hands over the rough paper, trying to pinpoint their location from his brother's markings.

Smiling softly, Dean allowed himself a moment to savor the idea of having his brother with him in the way they knew best, this world's version of a hunt. "About two weeks ago a few of the men saw a car traveling along this back highway here," Dean traced his finger along the blue line and shifted it to point at a clearing, "this is our camp. Anyway, the men went out and managed to catch up with the car. There was a family inside, a man, his wife and two kids. They had heard rumors about some type of settlement about an hour north of Colorado Springs. We want to go and check it out, see if it's true. Denver's one of the main cities run by the sort of quasi-military who's known for shooting on sight. The way I see it, anyone that close to Denver is bound to get discovered soon enough and..." Dean shrugged and traced along a new path on the map, "So we have to take mostly back roads. Travel at night. But hopefully we'll find some more survivors and we can bring them back here."

Sam drew in a deep breath as he followed the route on the map. Naturally, everything was planned out perfectly, as safe as it could be. He's always thought his older brother was a natural leader. He cared about people; it was funny, people often thought Sam was the caring one, deep and thoughtful. It was the other way around in Sam's experience. "How many people do you have here with you?" Sam's voice was quiet, firm; he was starting to realize the full impact of what had happened. _What he had started._

"Twelve men, Castiel and myself included, as well as eleven women and seven kids," Dean sighed softly and settled back on the seat, folding his arms across his chest and scrubbing a hand across his face. "We'll leave four of the men here, and most of the women, all of the kids too, of course. Tomorrow you'll get to meet mostly everyone." Pursing his lips for a moment, Dean sighed then met his brother's eyes. "Sam, they don't know you're my brother and... we can't tell them. I hope you understand... it's too much of a coincidence that we just randomly found you... you understand right?"

Blinking a few times, Sam pushed his hair back off his forehead. "I... yeah... I guess." He pulled a chair out from the table. "So ... is it common knowledge that I was Lucifer's vessel? Does everyone know that your brother ...” Sam’s voice caught and he looked down at the table.

"No one knows anything about me," Dean explained and shrugged, "besides Castiel that is. No one ever survived a run in with Lucifer so no, it's not common knowledge. It's strictly because... it will raise people's suspicion... if you happen to be my brother and we happened to find you in a Sam's Club in the middle of Arizona after five years. I need these people to trust me because... without a leader..." Dean sighed, "You get it I'm sure. And you know if someday we ever get..." Dean trailed off and looked down, shaking his head. "Well anyway, that's that."

"We ever get what?" Sam's eyes moved up to Dean's. Dean looked so much older and Sam couldn't resist reaching up to smooth his brother's hair back from his face. It was soft for once. His heart flipped a little... "You and me, you mean?"

Lips lining out into a line, Dean considered Sam for a long minute before he nodded slowly. "I don't know if that's a possibility. But, it's... something." he leaned forward, shifting closer to his brother and tracing his fingers over the patch of hair and skin Sam had just touched. "So we need to have some kind of explanation as to why you were alone in the place. I'm thinking you can say the rest of your group was attacked before and Sam's Club seemed safest as a hideout. You don't need to give a lot of explanation, but they'll try to get as much out of you as they can." Dean hesitated for a moment before extended his hand and laying it over his brother's knee under the table.

"O-Okay, I can say that..." Sam’s brow furrowed and he cocked his head. "Dean, I know that I'm a bit punch drunk and probably have scrambled eggs for brains, but ... so ... you're just _okay_ with us being _together_ now?" Sam shook his head and looked down, the muscles in his throat working over time. "Earlier ... that's not what you said ... or not what I understood ... or something." Sam leaned back on his chair and rubbed at his eyes.

"We're not together," Dean said and pulled his hand back, turning to the map. "I believe I said I wanted my brother back. Just like I said you could stay here." Dean snatched up a pencil and began scanning the path, looking for suitable places to potentially make camps. "I don't think I ever addressed the subject of what you and I may or may not be," he mumbled a few minutes later, pulling in on himself.

"Obviously, I'm just not getting things right." Sam pushed up from the chair. "You got an extra mattress or somethin' I can sleep on? I ... I'd rather stay here than go back to that room. If it's still okay." He scratched at his shoulder and looked around.

"God you're frustrating," Dean said shaking his head as he pushed up, gesturing toward the couch. "If you must, there's that. You're too tall but I'm sure you wouldn't want to share with me," he crossed the room and tugged off his shirt, throwing it to the opposite side of his bed and pulling at his jeans.

"What the hell do you want from me?" Sam stopped dead in his tracks. "You want me to process everything that's happened today, forget all the shitty things you and I did to each other, then play this stupid game with words while I try figure out if you meant you wanted your brother back or your _lover_ back and then you act like some spoiled brat who's had his favorite toy taken away because I'm scared to be over there... close to you?" Sam shook his head. "What do you _want_ me to do? Just fuckin' tell me and it'll be a lot easier. I'll do it." He stared over at Dean with his eyebrows raised and his hands thrown out. "What?"

Dean turned to him with raised eyebrows, heart racing in his chest. "I want you to accept the fact that I've been dealing with this for a lot longer than you've had to. So obviously my mind set is quite a bit different from yours," he sighed and dropped down on the edge of the bed. "You have no idea what it's been like Sam. I can't even tell you the last time I actually _felt_ something for anyone and I've been telling myself you were dead for five years. Now you're _here_ and I wish I could curl into your arms and kiss you because I just want to _feel_ something other than pain." Dean looked up at Sam, tears prickling along his eyes. "But how are we ever supposed to get back to that point?"

"Okay…" Sam let his arms fall to his sides. "I get that you were dealing with this for five years. But, Dean, it wasn't like I was on vacation on a tropical island. Can you maybe accept that there are things in my head that I don't have a hold on yet, or don't _want_ to figure out? Have you looked at my body? I don't think the last five years was a picnic." Sam walked back over to the table and sat down on the chair again. "Dean, I'm scared to _death_ to touch you and it's the only reason I..." His eyes dropped to the map and he fiddled with the edge of it. "Never mind, I get it and I'm sorry that you've been so hurt." _God_ , some things never changed no matter how long people were apart. Castiel's warning was still rattling around in Sam's head. Of course Dean wasn't as together as he seemed; Sam had shattered him.

"Sam," Dean whispered as he pushed up off the bed, distinctly aware that he was without a shirt and that the button on his jeans was undone, zipper halfway down. His eyes lingered on his brother for a long moment before he took a step forward, hand extended. "Come here," he said, eyes softening around the edges.

Rubbing his knuckles back and forth across his lips for a few moments, Sam peered back at Dean over his shoulder. Sighing, he pushed the chair back and stood closing the distance between them and taking his brother's hand. Dean's hand was warm and strong, rough, all the things that Sam remembered. _Jesus_ there were so many images rolling around in his head. His eyes moved slowly up his brother's body, his pale skin all curves and valleys. Dean was leaner now, lither than he was before. _Before_.

"I've always missed you," Dean said softly and stepped into his brother, squeezing his hand tightly. "I can't... god, it hurt so badly when I found out about Lucifer," Dean lifted his free hand and laid it over Sam's shoulder. "Do you remember anything from then? Did he make you... watch?" Dean flinched and looked up into his brother's eyes.

Sam rolled his bottom lip back into his mouth. "There are bits and pieces," his voice was thick with emotion. There were more than bits and pieces; there were screams and blood, torture, death and all kinds of destruction and there was nothing Sam could do to quiet it. Blinking slowly, Sam gazed distant and emotionless over Dean's shoulder. "Was nothing I could do about it." That muscle his jaw started twitching again and he rubbed at it with the heel of his palm. "It doesn't matter."

Dean massaged at Sam's shoulder slowly, "It does. I'm sorry... that you had to go through... that it came to that point." Dean stepped back a little, watching Sam's expression. "Do you... have _any_ idea why you're here? Why he let you go?"

Concentrating, Sam pressed his into eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "A deal... I don't know... I made a deal. I don't know for what." The pain in his head was throbbing again, "listen, Dean, I have a really bad headache. Can we... can I sleep? I'm not trying to avoid this conversation. I just can't even think properly." He took a few deep breaths, opened his eyes and tried a smile on for size.

"Trust me, I'm not exactly jumping for joy at the idea of some long, emotional conversation," Dean stepped back and turned away from him, pushing at his jeans. "You can sleep on the bed if you want. There's room and it's a hell of a lot more comfortable than the tiny sofa or the floor." He wet his lips and pulled back the blanket. "I have some sleeping pills. I think they'll still work pretty well. Want one? I'm gonna need you on your game if you’re going with us."

Lips quirking, Sam met Dean's gaze quickly, "Nah, I always sleep well when I'm with you." His eyes widened and he brushed his hair back, "I mean, I used to - I'm sure it's still the same.” A flutter of nerves shot through Sam's stomach.

Glancing up at his brother for a moment, Dean nodded before crossing to the table and turning off the lantern, plunging them into darkness. "Sorry, should have given you some warning," he chuckled softly and made his way back to his bed, curling his fingers around the blankets and sliding onto the mattress. "You... you're gonna sleep here? In bed I mean?"

"Yeah," Sam bumped into the chair, "if I can find it." He held his hand out in front of him as his eyes adjusted to the loss of light. Dragging his fingers on the quilt as he walked around the bed he smiled. He shucked his jeans and pulled off his shirt and slipped under the covers. Shivering slightly at the cool cotton Sam was comforted by the weight of the blankets and shifted so he was almost pressed against Dean's back. "Night," he murmured.

Swallowing a few times, working around the nerves twisting through him, Dean buried his face in the pillow and mumbled, "night." He wanted to shift back into Sam, but it seemed to impossibly hard. Shifting his body slightly, Dean settled for just the barest whisper of Sam's skin along his.

Huffing, Sam flipped his arm over Dean's waist and pulled him flush against his chest. He was smiling as he fell asleep.

Settling back into Sam, Dean sighed and let his arm fall over his brothers before sleep dragged him under as well.

The only person who had a key to Dean's cabin was Castiel, which explained how the angel was standing near the bed when his eyes flickered open. It didn't explain the why though. Shifting on the mattress, Dean found himself stuck in place, pinned against his brother's body by a strong arm around his waist. The heat was pleasant, coursing through him, making the ache of the last few days fade into the background. He lifted his head and groaned, fixing his eyes on Castiel, "What Cas?"

"You wanted to gather to discuss the meeting," Castiel's eyes narrowed as he looked down at the two of them, lips thinning out in displeasure.

Dean could read that look like an open book. Clearly, things weren't going the way Castiel had imagined they would. "Yeah, we need to discuss. You know your face will stick that way right?" Dean chuckled and rolled toward Sam slightly. "Sam, wake up," he nudged at his brother with his shoulder and glanced toward Castiel. "Do you mind?"

"Dean..." Castiel mumbled in displeasure and shook his head, stepping back and turning away from them.

Sam mumbled something inaudible and buried his face in his brother's neck.

Unable to resist the smile, Dean shifted his hand down Sam's back for a moment before pushing back and working his way out of his brother's hold. "We gotta get up Sam, lots to do." He climbed out of bed, eyes shooting up to Castiel, catching his narrowed gaze as it fixed on his boxers. Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed the jeans from the day before, stepping into them. "Cas, go around and tell everyone who wants to go on the raid to meet in the main cabin in thirty minutes. I'll bring the maps."

Castiel sighed and headed for the door, stopping when Dean called out once more, "Yes Dean?" He turned back to him, lips turned down.

"Tell Nicholas he's still not old enough, I know he'll try but he can't come. Not this time. If he has any problems he can talk to me later," Dean smirked slightly, watching Castiel leave before turning back to the bed and looking down at his brother.

"Up, I know." Sam rolled sideways and found himself all tangled up in the bed clothes. Scrubbing a hand down his face Sam sat on the edge of the bed blinking. "Clothes? Does coffee exist?" Sam rubbed at his arm checking out some bruises he hadn't noticed before. "You sleep okay?" He glanced up at Dean and saw he was dressed already.

"I slept... better than I have in awhile," Dean nodded slowly and smiled at Sam briefly before crossing to the kitchen area. "We'd have to boil water for the coffee and that would take too long, don't even have a fire going but they should have hot water over at the main cabin. They know how I enjoy my coffee if I can get it," Dean shrugged and grabbed a couple water bottles. Staring at Sam's boxer clad frame, he set the bottle on the counter and cleared his throat, "Right, clothes." Walking silently, Dean moved to the trunk beside the dresser and pushed it open, shifting through the contents before pulling out a pair of jeans and a shirt. "Here."

The clothes looked familiar and Sam held them up. "Mine? You saved them?" He huffed out a sigh as he pulled the jeans on. "Lost weight," he muttered as he held the front of them out. The plaid shirt was warm and comfortable and Sam started to feel more like his old self. "Can I borrow some socks?" He smiled crookedly, "sorry 'bout all this."

"Well you didn't come with a care package," Dean shrugged and pulled open his dresser, grabbing a pair of socks and tossing them toward Sam. He swallowed as he took in his brother in the familiar clothes. It brought an odd upsurge of memories and he turned away, "I'll have Cas ask around about some boots or something, someone's bound to have a pair that will fit. When we raid stores on the way back we'll get you clothes and other essentials." Dean rubbed at his hair then grabbed the brush from the top of the dresser and carried it over to Sam, extending his hand. For a split second he was tempted to run the brush through his hair like he would have when Sam was just a little boy, but he just turned the brush in his grip, staring at it, "Here."

Sam's fingers brushed his brother's as he grasped the brush. "Thanks," it didn't seem to matter much what he did to his hair, after all, it was ragged and long and he'd pretty much fallen asleep with it damp the day before. He ran the brush through his hair a few times and left it on the table. "I guess, I'll just wait here... for boots I mean?" Sam was nervous, anxious to get back in the game and do something useful.

Watching his brother for a few more moments with a slight frown, Dean nodded then crossed the cabin. "I'll be back in a few." Dean hesitated for a moment at the door and said softly, "Sam? It really is good to see you," he glanced over his shoulder at Sam for a second before tugging the door open and heading out. Castiel was still walking around the camp informing people of the meeting so he jogged quickly to him, stopping him with an arm on his sleeve. "Hey we need to find boots for Sam."

"Alright," Castiel turned to him and gestured across the way. "Both David and Andrew are fairly tall; perhaps their shoe size will match?" When Dean nodded they began walking across the field together and Castiel watched him with each step.

"Seriously Cas, for not saying anything you really are talking _way_ too much," Dean sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

Castiel scratched at his shoulder and sighed, "I simply hadn't thought you'd jump right back into things so quickly with Sam."

"You're misinterpreting the situation," Dean shook his head and pulled his hands free to slap a hand on Castiel's arm. "I appreciate the concern Cas, as always, but seriously. This is something I need to handle myself. You know me and you know the last thing I want to do is fuck things up even more. So relax, take a chill pill, and don’t read too much into things."

"I worry about you both," Castiel murmured but didn't bring up the subject again as they neared the cabin belonging to the two men.

After a quick conversation, and a little bit longer explanation, David turned out to have an extra pair of boots to spare that would fit Sam. Dean promised to return them once they'd picked up some new ones at the raid. He left Castiel there to explain more about the raid and the meeting in a few minutes before jogging back to his own cabin and pushing the door open. "Here," he said by way of greeting and carried the boots to Sam, setting them on the table. "These belong to David, so you should thank him later," Dean looked up and sighed. "Sorry, I don't mean lecture."

"It's okay, you never know what to expect from me..." Sam took the boots and jammed his feet into them, lacing them quickly and tugging his jeans back down over them. "Ready. Do you want me to be armed? I thought I'd ask here, not in front of everyone." Sam looked down at his boots and walked a few experimental steps in them.

Dean crossed to the trunk once more and pulled out a knife. "Here, keep this on you, but keep it hidden. As a general rule we lock up all guns, safer that way. Castiel has the key because well... angel," Dean shrugged and stepped toward Sam, offering the hilt of the blade. "No one else should have any weapons but... to be safe." Wetting his lips, Dean lifted his eyes to lock with his brother's. "You still pretty good with fighting and stuff?"

"To be perfectly honest? I have no idea." Sam took the knife and flipped it in his hand. "I don't feel like I've gone completely soft or anything. I'll try to make sure I don't complicate things for anyone. Defend myself and stay out of the way?" He stepped forward tucking the knife down the side of his boot. "I just ... I need to see it."

"Okay," Dean nodded and walked toward the kitchen to grab the water bottles. "We won't leave until later tonight. For now you'll be just dealing with the group here." Dean sighed and held the bottle of water out for his brother. "Sam, I should warn you... it's not pretty out there. I mean... really. The towns are mostly infested or destroyed. This clearing here has the cleanest skies and even then, most days it's hazy. It's..." Dean shrugged and looked down. "It's bad."

"I know," Sam had wisps of it in his head, things that Lucifer had _let_ him see. "I've seen ... some things Dean. I guess I just need to know the extent of it. This is my fault, I started it and now I want to work with you. Try and find people. Buy myself back a little redemption or something." He shrugged, "I dunno." Sam fiddled with the buttons on his shirt. "So - we have to be anywhere right now?"

"Meeting," Dean gestured to the door before gathering up the maps on the table. "Sam..." he stared at his brother for a few minutes before dropping his eyes and turning. "Come on. Let's go."

Frowning slightly, Sam headed for the door with a million questions on the tip of his tongue. "Okay...Let's do this."

The meeting was productive; at least, it seemed to Sam as though it was. After the initial buzz of curiosity died down and Sam was introduced as another survivor he settled in at the back of the group to listen and watch.

Dean was all the things Sam remembered and more. He was firm and gently authoritative - standing as he spoke and walking around the room. Sam watched as his brother made eye contact with his people ... because that's what they were. _Dean's_ people. They were well-cared for, secure, and confident, though Sam was certain they hadn't all arrived in that state.

It was obvious Castiel and Dean were now well-accustomed to working together. Some of the stiffness Sam remembered had left Castiel and Sam even saw him smile once or twice. Cas stood at Dean's side contributing at a simple nod from Dean. Again, something slightly off stabbed at Sam's chest. It should have been him at his brother's side. Dropping his head, Sam rubbed the back of his neck. There would be a lot of these regrets. Lost places, lost time ... _Fuck_. He pushed up from his chair as people started to leave the room and hurried through the small crowd to get some fresh air.

The rest of the day was lost in preparation. Sam wandered around the camp watching everyone move with practiced routine. They'd all done this so many times. People glanced up at Sam as he passed, smiling slightly, curious. No one had asked him much, he was sure that Dean had passed around what information he wanted people to know. Strangely enough, it bothered Sam a little that no one knew he was Dean's brother. It was like he'd lost part of his identity; _not_ being Dean's brother but then he supposed that Dean had come to terms with that loss a long time ago.

Dean was mostly busy overseeing the packing but Castiel's lack of movement caught his attention and he crossed to stand by his side. They both stood silently, side by side, watching Sam walk through the camp slowly. Dean's heart lurched in his chest every time Sam's features came into view, the flash of something lost and empty in his eyes. "This world will destroy him," Castiel nearly whispered, eyes sliding over to Dean's profile.

"No," Dean's eyebrows pulled together in frustration and he clapped a hand down on Castiel's shoulder. "You never understood my brother, Cas. I think he'll surprise you," stepping away from the man, Dean went back to checking the items that were being packed. He only hoped it was true, that Sam would surprise them both in the end.

It was a small convoy that left the camp that evening. Sam was sure he'd never forget the faces of the women and children watching them as they left. Small faces were pressed against windows, hands curled over balcony railings; even Sam pressed his palm against the window of the Range Rover as they drove away. It was evening when they left, traveling by night having been declared “safer” by Dean. The camp was dark as they pulled away, a curfew, Dean told him and to keep their visible presence to a minimum. Each driver trusted his instincts as he negotiated his vehicle through the bust and back to ... what was left.

Castiel drove their vehicle. Sam had raised an eyebrow when the angel slid behind the wheel and Dean had just said _I had time to teach him._ That pinch again, hard, sharp and _fucking_ painful in Sam's chest. Morgan's riding shotgun. He's a young man, wide-eyed and yet calm; strange combination. Sam watched as Dean squeezed Morgan's shoulder gently when he slid into the back seat behind him. _Dean's people_. Sam rested his forehead against the cool window and stared out at what little he could see. The warmth from the heater, the rocking of the vehicle and Dean's presence at his side rocked Sam slowly to a restless sleep.

If there were any other way, Dean wouldn't have thrust Sam into this world. Not like this. The shock was enough to send his brother reeling and he knew it. But he also accepted the fact that this was something Sam needed to see, for whatever the reason. There was a part of his mind that couldn't begin to accept this world until he could see all the damage he had caused. Dean wished he could figure out the right way to tell Sam that it wasn't his fault. He also wished he believed that completely, because in truth, Sam _had_ said yes to Lucifer, and Dean knew that _this_ was how the world ended.

Though, it didn't stop his heart from aching slightly as they came to a stop, maybe an hour or so north of Denver. They had to skirt around the city in a wide arc, bypassing all its suburbs because even taking the main highway through wasn't safe. The quasi-military ran by a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ policy. They needed to stop for the day to rest up and prepare themselves for whatever they might find in Colorado Springs. "Sam," Dean extended his arm and curled his fingers around Sam's arm, shaking it slightly. "Wake up Sam," his hand flickered up to brush hair from Sam's forehead.

Sam, stirring slowly at first, jerked up from the window when Dean shook his arm. "Sorry," he muttered as he stretched slightly, "first I felt really warm since I ..." Sam's voice was clipped off by his palm slamming into the door as his fingers scrabbled at the handle. " _Fuck_ ", he finally managed to yank the door open and stumbled out of the truck to move as though hypnotized toward the horizon.

If he's ever thought there was a way for him to imagine the damage he'd caused, Sam knew now he was wrong. He was _very_ wrong. The first things he'd noticed were the plumes of smoke whirling up into the air; the sliver of sun still visible was ocher through the tar-black billowing smoke. What was still standing was burning, and what wasn't burning was abandoned, broken into pieces. The whole world had fallen apart - _blown_ apart. Sam's feet moved forward and he sank to his knees, eyes still moving over the devastation. How do you understand that your actions brought about the end of almost everything? What part of the human mind can comprehend that much loss, destruction and fear? They were still so far away but it wasn't hard to see there was nothing of any substance there. Nothing much was spared; empty roads criss-crossed the city spread out before them, dotted with abandoned vehicles and piles of refuse. Sam's hand drifted up to rub down his face.

"Shall I speak to him?" Castiel asked quietly, stepping up to Dean's side. They stood along the side of the path, watching Sam several feet away from them. Castiel sounded as sad as Dean felt and he took an uncertain step forward.

Dean extended his hand and laid it over Castiel's arm, "No Cas. I think this is something for me to cover." He turned back to the truck and dug around for his duffel, throwing the strap over his shoulder before tugging up the bag with his tent stuffed inside. "Make sure no one starts any fires, the smoke would be too visible to the city. Give us some time to talk."

Castiel nodded and stepped back, still watching Sam with concern. "Are you sure you can handle it?"

"No," Dean shook his head and took a few steps forward before looking back at Castiel. "But I'm sure I have to. So I'll do it. I'll let you know if we need anything," he tried to smile at Castiel but the muscles in his face wouldn't work that way. Swallowing hard, Dean carried the bags over to the place Sam was collapsed on the dirt. He stood behind him for a moment before dropping the bags to the side and kneeling, arm extending around Sam's shoulders and curling him into his arm. "Sam... there's nothing to be gained by taking the weight of the world on your shoulders. You can't let this consume you," he stroked his fingers along Sam's arms, mustering up that level of comfort he hadn't genuinely tapped for years. It was one thing to fake it for people he encountered along the way, he'd been doing that for years; this time his heart genuinely ached.

Sam leaned against his brother for a few moments, eyes wide and sad, staring straight ahead. His lips parted so he could speak and he couldn't find his voice. He swallowed and his eyes blinked into motion, drifted down from the landscape in front of them and settled on his own hands. "I know," he whispered. "I'm okay," he lied. He'd lied to Dean before. He’d lied to his brother so much the last time they were together that he didn't even know what the truth was anymore. Tilting his head so he could see Dean's eyes, Sam cleared his throat. "That was a lie, I'm not okay - but I'm gonna try and be okay. I ..." Sam reached up and pressed two fingers to Dean's lips, "I don't want to lie to you anymore." His hand fell back to his lap and his eyes trailed across the ground once more to rise up and move across the ragged cityscape. _Just keep breathing_.

It was oddly refreshing to hear the words, especially since Dean had known that Sam was lying. There was no fucking way he could be okay, not after coming face to face with a thing like this. Some days Dean didn't even know if _he_ was okay and he'd been dealing with this post apocalyptic world for five years. "It's one thing at a time Sam. You were right before, when you said you had a chance to redeem yourself. You do. Now that you're free of his hold you can help me. Of all the people in this group you're the closest to prepared for this. I could use a good right hand man. I could use you," Dean slid his hand to the middle of Sam's back and rubbed in slow circles, trying to determine if any of the words he was saying were comforting to his brother in any way.

Shoulder's sagging as he filled his lungs with the metallic tasting air, Sam turned slightly to look at Dean. "Will I ever be able to make amends to you?" Sam knew he couldn't fix the rest of the world but maybe he could fix one or two things.

Considering the question in silence for a minute or two, Dean suddenly found himself nodding. He didn't know how, or any of the right ways to make it happen, but Dean felt like it _had_ to happen. Otherwise they'd just be dancing around each other, one awkward situation after another. "I don't know how... but there's a definite hope there," he patted Sam's back slowly before pushing up. "Wanna help build the tent? I... we have to share. If that's not an issue," he glanced at Sam over his shoulder before pulling up his bag and dumping it out onto the ground.

After he rose, it was a few more moments before Sam could tear his eyes off the smoky sky. When he turned, he caught Cas' gaze for a few seconds before the angel frowned and disappeared back into another tent. Walking up behind Dean, Sam ran his hands through his hair, "Cas ... worries about you and me." Sam grabbed one end of the tent and walked backwards so he could help stretch it out.

"I know," Dean nodded and grumbled, "It’s none of his business though. Cas needs things to worry about. And he's a little... over protective of me. Too many years being his charge I guess; even if I'm not technically his charge at all, not anymore." He glanced toward Castiel then looked back at his brother. "I don't answer to him. You don't have to either. There are things that are just our business, and this thing, is definitely one of them," Dean shrugged and drove one of the supporting stakes into the ground to hold up the tent.

Pulling up the front peek of the tent, Sam held it rigid while Dean drove the other peg into the ground. "What did he mean before when he told me that you weren't as strong as you seemed?" Sam's voice was gentle and low as his gaze flitted to Castiel's tent then back. "He seems ... to care more for you than he used to." _At least when I was around_ he didn't add.

With a soft sigh Dean scrubbed a hand across his head and straightened up from the ground. "He was there. For the downfall," Dean turned his head toward Sam and took a step forward. "When I saw you and Ruby... he had the misfortune of being the one to witness my reaction. I was pretty fucked up for a few weeks. Then I went through this numb, killing every supernatural piece of fuck I could find phase. It escalated in me taking it too far with a demon and Cas had to stop me before I... crossed too big a line. Then he was there for well... the end of the world," Dean shrugged and tugged at a part of the tent. "I care for him too. He's been... a good friend. There when I needed one most."

That cold grip of jealousy squeezed tighter on Sam's heart again. "Yes, I can see that he has. See it in his eyes now. He didn't look at you like that ... before. Maybe we should listen to him." Sam moved around to the back of the tent before Dean could catch the hurt look on his face. He really had to get over the way he felt so _possessive_ of Dean. Just like he'd fucked up the world, he's fucked up the only relationship he'd ever had that meant shit to him. Sam's world was like that. He almost wished that Cas hadn't given him back his memories.

Shoulders tensing, Dean considered his brother for a long moment before finishing up with the last peg in the ground and crossing around to the front of the tent, dropping down to crawl inside. "Come in here," he said softly, waiting until Sam crawled in before dropping his hands in his lap. "Look Sam, I respect Cas, and I do care for him. But there are some things he will never get. Even caring for a person... it only goes so far. I've never explained the extent of things between us to him; all he knows is that wreck of a person he saw. And as far as explanations go... I didn't give him much and... damn it Sam. You wanna make amends with me? Stop throwing up brick walls before we get anywhere," he huffed and dropped his gaze.

Looking down at his brother's hands Sam chewed on his bottom lip for a few moments before speaking. "It's not a wall, I don't think I have any of those left after ..." he gestured vaguely in the direction of the crumbled city he'd been staring at earlier. "I just don't want to get in the way of something you want, or need. If it's Cas ... or not, if it’s someone else then I ..." he swallowed, "I can be okay on my own. It's not like you need to be with me all the time to make sure I won't go dark side again; learned that lesson." He sighed and dragged one of the sleeping bags over towards his lap.

Dean stared at him in confusion for a few minutes before things clicked together in his mind. "What? You think... Cas and _me_?" He barked out a surprised laugh and sat back, shaking his head from side to side. "Sam... no. There's... never been anyone else. It's just not something I've been interested in. There's always something else going on. And Cas... I don't see him _that_ way. I've never seen any other guy that way. You're the only guy who ever... did it for me," he swallowed and scratched at his leg.

"Oh." Sam unrolled his sleeping bag and stood awkwardly to try and spread it out. "S'just the way he looks at you." Sam's head was starting to reel a little and he sat back on his heels and examined his bed. "All the comforts of home," he murmured.

"Cas doesn't look at me in any special way," Dean sighed and spread out his own sleeping bag, extending out. "Sam... for a long time before and after you said yes to Lucifer, they w22;all the angels w22;were trying to get me to give in to Michael. Cas fought that and they basically kicked him out of heaven. He lost his entire... life, whatever you call it. He's stuck here and I'm the only one who sees him as something more than just an angel. All the other people in this camp, they practically worship Castiel. He hates that. So if he looks at me in any special way, it's because of that. Trust me, Cas is _not_ a sexual being," Dean chuckled softly and shook his head, thinking about just how not sexual Castiel was.

Nodding slowly Sam decided to just let it go. "Is there stuff I should be doing? Helping someone? With anything?" He was restless; not that he really wanted to go back outside and look at that view again. _That_ was ingrained in his memory already. _That_ he would live with forever.

Dean fell back on the sleeping bag and kicked off his boots, rolling over onto his stomach. "Resting is the best thing you can do. We need to be alert for tonight," Dean turned his head on the pillow to stare at Sam. "We're about four hours from where the refugees hopefully are." Dean considered Sam for a moment before shifting up, reaching out to cup the back of Sam's neck and massage gently. "Sammy," he whispered and felt suddenly transported back to a time, whispering his brother's name like it was some secret code between them. His eyes different flickered along Sam's features for a long moment before he shifted forward and brushed their lips together softly.

Sam's body knew the feel of those lips and responded without hesitation. His lashes fluttered down to his cheeks and his lips parted to move slowly and surely over Dean's mouth. Sam's lips were chapped and rough and it only made Dean's seem even silkier. His hand hung in the air between them for a moment before settling against his brother's chest shyly. His heart raced and sent his blood racing around in his body; he actually felt a little dizzy for a few moments.

It had been a long time since Dean felt the lips of another beneath his own and for those to be _Sam's_... Dean's mind was practically reeling from the thought alone. The touch was enough for Dean to surge forward, pulling up on his knees and letting both hands cup along Sam's jaw, tugging him in to deepen the kiss. After several moments of their lips brushing together, relearning each other with tentative passes, Dean let his tongue slip forward, gliding along Sam's lower lip, a silent whisper for entry into a place he hadn't touched for _years_.

Fingers curling tightly into his brother's shirt, Sam's tongue slipped forward to brush against Dean's quickly then pulled back, inviting. Sam's body felt weak, weaker with each second that Dean's lips were on his. And then Dean's tongue slid forward, shyly at first, warm and slick. Sucking on it gently, Sam leaned forward and snaked his other arm around Dean's neck tilting his head to deepen the kiss. _The kiss._ It was more than Sam had hoped would even happen between them ever again and his pulse beat out a steady rhythm of relief.

Dean slid his legs out, tugging at Sam and pulling him down to lie over his body. He found comfort in the taste of Sam's mouth, the warmth of his brother's body over his. It was wonderful, feeling him, feeling _something_ after so damn long. Dean's hand slid to his shirt, dipping under the hem and sliding up along smooth skin. Then the tent around shook slightly and Dean pulled back, turning to the side and growling, "What?"

"Do you have first aid supplies over here?" Castiel's voice was strong and sure and under laced as if he knew something was going on even if he couldn't see it.

"No. You have them," Dean snapped back, face scrunching together in annoyance.

"Of course, my mistake," Castiel sighed and Dean could practically feel his gaze through the tent before he heard the angel walking away.

"His mistake my ass." Dean grumbled and turned to look at Sam still sprawled on him, lips slightly kiss swollen. "I... was that okay?"

"I should," Sam shifted slowly off his brother's body, missing his warmth almost instantly. "He doesn't think - Castiel, doesn't think it's good. I ...should I go help him find the first aid stuff?" Sam swallowed down the rest of his questions. _What if I kissed you again? What if we were alone? What if Cas hadn't found us? What if you still can't forgive me afterwards?_ He scratched nervously at the back of his neck and pushed up. "I'm gonna get some water ... or something. Do you want anything?" He turned to look back as he pushed the tent flap up with his shoulder.

"Just you," Dean muttered, bit down on his tongue and rolled over to bury his face down into the sleeping bag. "I'm fine. Thanks." His heart was just calming its racing and he clenched his fist, wishing Castiel didn't have what seemed to be such good sex radar. For a completely not sexual being, he was sure good at sensing the warning signs. Through tents. Dean made a mental note to have a few words with him later.

The flap fell closed. Sam was still on the inside of the tent when it did. "Dean, what did you say you wanted?" Sam's voice was barely above a whisper. "Just ... what?" The skin on his cheeks tingled with expectation.

Keeping his eyes closed, Dean sighed and mumbled into his sleeping bag. "You, just you." After a moment he rolled on his side to peer at Sam. "I don't mean... I'm not ready to... I just want you to... lie here," Dean gestured. "Don't go. Stop thinking about what Castiel thinks. We have enough issues between us without dragging him in too." Dean sighed and shifted on the sleeping bag. "But I get it, if you have to go." Dean didn't really get it but he could pretend to, and ignore the way his heart clenched.

Sam crawled back up his sleeping bag and turned around to tug his new boots off. Rubbing his foot for a few moments he smiled. He tugged the zipper down on his sleeping bag and flipped it open so that he could crawl inside then held it up, eyes meeting Dean's, inviting him in.

After a moment of wetting his lips and shaking the doubts away, Dean slid forward. He curved into Sam's body easily and settled there, hand extending to rest over his chest. "I wish we could just take it all back. Go back to when..." Dean trailed off. When were things _ever normal_ between them?

"I know," Sam whispered into his brother's hair. He tugged Dean's sleeping bag up against his brother's back to keep him warm then tightened his harms around him. "I wish for a lot of things, but just never seem to get the wishes right." Sam's voice was thick and he buried his face in Dean's hair. In the _scent_. _Dean_.

"Tell me about it," Dean muttered and let his eyes fall closed. "But sometimes, wishes you never thought would come true... do," he mumbled and turned his head into Sam's body, drinking in the familiarity.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam could hear people moving about outside the tent as he struggled to wake up. Momentarily disoriented, as he looked up at the dark canvas above his head, it was the sleepy moan and rustle of Dean against him that brought him back to his surroundings. Dean's breath was sleep-even and deep. Sam shifted back carefully so that he could stare down at his brother's face. Lips puffing out as he exhaled, Dean's cheeks were rosy in the cool evening air. Pulling one arm out from under the warm sleeping bag, Sam brushed his fingers against Dean's temple. "Hey, s'time to get up," he murmured softly as he leaned in to place a kiss on Dean's forehead.

Mumbling softly, Dean shifted against Sam's body and tightened his hold across his chest. "Five more minutes," he mumbled and, for a moment, lost himself in the presence of his brother. Tilting his head up, Dean grazed his lips along Sam's neck, sucking softly at the flesh and moaning low in his throat. The slam of a truck door in the not too far off distance snapped him out of it and he blinked his eyes open, pushing back a little and peering down at his brother with squinting eyes. "Sorry I... forgot where we were for a minute," he sighed softly and turned away, rolling over to snatch his boots from the far side of the tent.

"S'okay," Sam sighed, his fingers moving over the damp spot on his neck where the ghost of Dean's lips still lingered. "I liked it, brought back memories... so to speak." He'd never really be able to say that again without grimacing. The pain from Castiel's _assistance_ was still too easily remembered. Sam reached out to touch Dean's thigh, then pulled back at the last moment, unsure.

With a quick glance over at his brother, Dean tugged on his second boot before sliding forward. "I better go make sure the gear's getting packed up right. Start taking down the tent?" He hesitated for a moment before once more cupping the back of Sam's neck and tugging him forward, brushing their lips together. "I'll see you in a few," he muttered and, though he meant to pull away, he slanted his mouth over Sam's instead, sucking softly into the kiss before pulling back an inch or so.

Breath hitching in his chest, Sam stretched up to kiss his brother back, lips parting softly against Dean's. "Okay," Sam said. Soon, everything would be very different. Soon there'd be no denying the damage Sam had done. And this... these stolen moments, well, they'd probably be gone too. _God_ , Sam wanted back what they'd had before.

Dean squeezed Sam's neck for a moment before pulling back, faint smile on his lips. "Okay," he repeated before climbing out of the tent, heading towards the men loading the bags into the truck in the low beams.

Soon, the tents were taken down, some trail food was passed around, water packs strapped on and everyone slowly moved to stand behind either Dean or Castiel. They were a small, rag-tag group but Sam could read fierce determination on most of their faces. If there were more survivors out there then Dean's people wanted to bring them in. Sam wondered if that was what kept them going, their shared belief that there might be even one more person left to save.

When it was time to leave, Dean simply nodded to Castiel and everyone started to move. Sam lagged behind a little, he knew what they would be walking into; he should have been more prepared for it when it was finally in front of him.

Every time Castiel looked his way Dean understood the meaning behind his gaze. He was worried about Sam, about how this entire situation would affect him. Dean was worried too but he understood Sam's _need_ to know; just like he understood Sam's desire to find some sort of survivor, as if that would make everything all better. Dean wasn't sure if he wanted Sam to find someone or not. This far out, anyone they found was likely to be either already infected and therefore have to be killed, or slightly insane from the solitude and loneliness. Either way, it didn't matter because they had to go on and search, just in case.

At first it was broken down fences, untended gardens, upturned garbage cans and refuse scattered along the empty roads. There were no signs of life: abandoned cars, the doors wide open sometimes as though people had simply walked away from them. The closer they came to the houses the worse it seemed. Shattered windows reflected the half-light of dusk as ragged and filthy curtains flapped in the wind.

Sam hesitated at the threshold of the first house. It was as though he could feel the darkness in the house wrap around him like a heavy blanket. To him it was like stepping into a dark tomb; the smell of rotten food and unclean surfaces everywhere. Bowls of food had been left standing on counters; there were dead plants, dead fish and so many silent photographs with frozen faces. Sam leaned down to pick up some mail off of the floor, "Wilkinson," he murmured as he tossed it onto the counter.

Dean watched his brother with sad eyes. He knew that look. It was the one he'd seen on so many other people's faces the first time they stepped out into the world. In their camp it was easy to forget that most places were so empty and hollow. He remembered feeling that too, after the first initial spread, when the disease was working its way through cities faster than the news could report. It took less than a month for the virus to spread across the US. Dean didn't know how long it took for it to overtake the world, just that they lost communications with other countries before that month was up. It was odd, how the quickly the world shut down with the loss of electricity and technology. People often lost their minds before the virus could even affect them. More often than not, it started with that desperately sad and lonely look that Sam had on his face so Dean trailed behind him, ready to step in if it just got to be too much.

It got worse with every step they drew closer to what was once the most populated area of the city. No life. Acrid smoke billowed from some windows, downed power lines lay cut and lifeless on the asphalt and Sam's feet grew heavier with every movement. His heart was aching, eyes frantically darting from one potential hiding place to another. There had to be someone, there simply _had_ to be. A pickup truck had been driven straight through the huge windows at the front of a department store - the truck bed still contained the most inane items: a bright green child's bike, some rope and a toolbox. It made Sam's chest clench a little tighter when he walked past empty strollers, upturned bicycles and four foot tall swear words spray-painted onto the walls of buildings.

"Hey," Dean said softly, laying his hand on Sam's shoulder. He could see that sadness consuming Sam and he had to pull Sam back from it before became too much. He opened his mouth to say something more but a loud clattering sounded a few buildings down and both their heads shot toward the noise. He looked at Sam for a moment, raising his gun and cocking his head toward the side. They moved quietly down the street, eyes scanning the rubble. Another loud clatter sounded from inside what used to be a dress shop to the right of them. Dean nodded at his brother before stepping forward and nudging open the door half hanging from its hinges. There was only one place a person could hide so Dean headed straight for it, curling his fingers around the closet door and tugging it open.

"Don't hurt me!" The child screamed and threw his arms over his head, cowering in the corner.

"Jesus," Dean stepped back, dropping the weapon to the side. The little boy was dressed in scraps of clothing, skin smeared with dirt and grime, not unlike how Dean had found Sam less than a week ago. They'd collected the odd assortment of survivors over the years but never had he seen just one child all alone in run down place like this. His eyes turned to Sam, trying to gauge his brother's reaction. "Hey kid..." he said softly, bending down to peer at the boy, "Don't worry, we're not infected."

The boy dropped his arms slowly and looked between them, eyes wide. "Y-you're n-n-not?" He shifted along the floor, scooting forward a little and staring up at Sam with eyes so wide Dean almost laughed. To a little kid like that, Sam had to look like a giant.

"Hi buddy..." Sam crouched down near the kid, a gentle smile on his face. "We're more like the X-men," he shifted a bit closer. "You know them?" Sam had no idea what kids even knew anymore - especially a kid who looked like he'd been trying to survive on his own.

"Like Wolverine?" the little boy slid forward a little more, rolling his chapped lips together.

Dean's lips quirked up in a small smile and he turned to survey the shop they were in, searching for any hints that the little boy might have companions that were just out searching for things. The idea of him being alone in this shop made his heart clench.

"Yeah, just like wolverine." Sam moved slowly and settled himself down on the floor tucking his gun down the back of his jeans. "We all hang out together and fight the bad guys." He tilted his head and smiled, the boy was young, maybe eight or nine years old and Sam's throat tightened thinking of what he must have seen. "My name's Sam and this is Dean," Sam gestured at his brother. "You got a name?"

Looking between the two nervously, the little boy nodded, "Caleb."

Stepping forward, Dean bent down and laid his hand on Sam's shoulder, "I'm gonna go around the building, see if I can find anything else. You good to get him back to the trucks?" It wasn't that Dean had an issue with kids, they just always had so many questions and Dean didn't always know the best way to answer them. That and all the kids he encountered in the past five years tended to be overly affectionate. Dean wasn't necessarily the best to give out that comfort.

"Yeah," Sam smiled up at his brother, "me and Caleb will be fine. We'll get to know each other." He took a deep breath listening to Dean's footsteps fade away in the distance. "So… you by yourself bud?"

Caleb slid forward to eye the door that Dean had disappeared through before turning back to Sam. "My parents said they'd be right back," his lower lip jutted out as water pricked along his eyes. "But it's been a really long time. I think they forgot about me."

"Oh... like how long Caleb?" Sam leaned slightly to the side and looked behind Caleb. There were some empty food packets and dirty blankets but, it didn't look like he'd been there very long. _God_ , Sam couldn't even get his brain wrapped around how the kid had managed to stay alive.

"It was daytime when they left, but then it was night and then day and night again, so… a _really_ long time," Caleb frowned and slid a little closer to Sam, watching him nervously. "Do you have anything to drink? I'm really thirsty," he rubbed his chapped lips together once more, looking at Sam's side as if he could magically produce water.

"Yeah, hang on," Sam reached inside his jacket and pulled out his flask, unscrewed it and held it out to Caleb. "Just drink a little bit so we can save it okay?" Sam didn't want him to drink too much if it had been a long time since he had water. The last thing the poor kid needed was to be ill on top of everything else.

Caleb curled his fingers around the flask and tilted the bottle back, drinking a few big gulps before pulling it back and handing it to Sam. He sniffed loudly and drew the back of his hand across his lips. "Sam? Are you gonna help me find my mom and dad?" He slid a little closer to Sam, shivering slightly in the scraps of clothing hanging around his shoulders.

Slipping off his jacket, Sam swung it around Caleb's shoulders. He looked down at him, heart in his mouth. What the hell do you say to a kid in this _fucked up_ world? Sam's eyes darted around, looking for his brother - anyone - but they were alone. "Listen, Caleb. I don't know if we're gonna be able to find them. Dean's gone off with some of our other friends and I promise you buddy if your parents are around then Dean will bring them back." Without even thinking about it Sam reached out and rubbed Caleb's back. "The thing is Caleb - people get so sick now, you know? And sometimes, people we love don't come back." _Or sometimes, they do and it's even worse._

Caleb turned and crawled the rest of the way to Sam until he could press into his side, needing only the invitation of Sam's had on his back to grasp at the comfort of the much bigger man. "I know. My brother got sick. It made my mom cry. Everyone got sick and we had to go away," Caleb turned his head into Sam's chest and wrapped his tiny arms around him. "What will I do if my mom and dad are sick? Will you leave me more food before you go?"

Sam tried to swallow the sadness that was welling up in his chest. "Well," his voice broke as he pulled Caleb closer, "I think you should probably come back with us. Someone can take care of you back at our camp...our hideout." He sniffed and looked away fighting back tears. "If your parents are around Dean will find them and if not you can stay with us. Is that okay?"

Nodding quickly, Caleb stepped back and slipped his arms into the coat Sam had rested on his shoulders. "I'd like to go with you. If Dean can't find my mom and dad... can I help look? I promise to be quiet so the bad people don't hear us," he shifted around in the large coat and rocked back and forth slightly beside Sam.

Sam pushed up off the ground and brushed his jeans off. "How about we look for them all the way back to the trucks? We'll meet Dean when we get back there." Sam reached down and brushed Caleb's shaggy hair back off his forehead. The horror of what this little boy had seen, the way he still trusted and looked up at Sam like he was some sort of hero was making Sam sick. Caleb wouldn't be here, and his parents wouldn't be dead, if it weren't for Sam in the first place. He needed to get his kid back to the trucks, hand him off to someone who could actually help him. Someone who was _worth_ looking up to. Sam blew out a long breath, "Okay then. Let's go...okay? We'll look hard on the way but we gotta be real quiet alright?"

"Okay," Caleb agreed and slid his hand into Sam's, following him out of the shop.

Dean rounded the corner of a shop two buildings down and fixed his eyes on his brother and the little boy. His eyes shifted to Morgan, nodding at him to let him know he was heading in a different direction before he crossed to Sam. "We haven't located anyone else," he said quietly, stopping by Sam's side and glancing down at the little boy. "I have no idea how he managed to be the only survivor."

Sam's eyes were wide in the dim light. Sam leaned over toward his brother. "Dean..." he whispered, "this is ... this is _my_ fault." His huge hand tightened on Caleb's; it was so small, his tiny fingers were cool and smooth, fragile.

Clapping a hand on Sam's shoulder, Dean shook his head and leaned forward slightly, "You gotta stop thinking about it that way man. It's not gonna do you any good."

"Dean?" Caleb leaned into Sam's side and turned to him, "Did you find my mom and dad?"

Dean swallowed and looked at Sam for a moment before kneeling and reaching out to touch the little boy's shoulder, "I'm sorry Caleb, there's no one else here."

"Oh," Caleb's eyes watered and he stepped closer to Sam, dropping his hand and wrapping his arm around his leg instead.

Clearing his throat around the surprise jolt of tears, Dean pushed up and looked to the side, biting down on his lip. "Why don't you two head back to the trucks? Get him some food and water; I think we may have some clothes in the back that will fit him," he finally turned back to Sam, eyes glistening with moisture.

Sam's hand drifted to the top of Caleb's head, fingers threading through his hair as his eyes locked with his brother's for a few moments. If seeing Caleb here had been a knife in Sam's chest then Dean's words gave it a damn good twist. Sam could barely get a breath in past his clenched teeth. He closed his eyes for a moment, unable to look for even a second longer at the sadness in Dean's eyes. Bending over quickly Sam grabbed Caleb and lifted him up into his arms. "C'mon buddy, you must be really tired." His voice was thick and he couldn't help burying his face in Caleb's hair for a few moments as he tried to get control of himself.

"I am," Caleb said softly and settled his head on Sam's shoulders, turning to let out a quiet little gasp as tears finally fell from his eyes.

Dean took a step back and shook his head. This situation was almost the worst thing imaginable; and it never got any easier. Dean had to turn away from Sam, watching him suffering with the knowledge that he was the one responsible for this little boy's pain; not having any words to comfort either of them properly. He did reach out though to lay a hand low on Sam's back and rub in small circles. "We're going to do a supply check. There's a walkie in the truck if you need anything alright? I won't be far."

All Sam could manage was a slight nod as his hand pressed against the back of Caleb's head. Sam stumbled forward a few steps then managed to calm himself enough to get out the door and back out into the air. He hiked Caleb up higher in his arms and spoke softly to the little boy as he made his way back to the trucks. Sam told him about the other little kids that were back at the camp, how there were even a few dogs that he'd seen running around; he told Caleb about angels and how they would help sometimes to take care of people like Caleb and Sam, people who didn't have Moms and Dads anymore. Everything Sam had done, all the selfish decisions and poor judgment came down to this one walk. It all came down to holding a kid in his arms, and trudging through garbage and destruction, breathing in smoke and knowing it was all because of him. All because Sam said _yes_.

By the time Sam made it back to the truck his arms were numb from holding Caleb but there was no way in hell he was letting him go. He was pretty sure the little boy had dozed off a few times on their walk, probably been terrified for so long he'd only napped when he could. Sam fumbled with the door on the truck for a while and finally managed to get in, settling Caleb against his chest. There was a blanket on the seat and Sam pulled it over the little boy and tucked it around him. "There you go buddy. S'gonna be okay," he whispered.

-=-=-=-

Dean watched his brother carry the little boy away before he headed back into the town, eyes darting around until he spotted Castiel coming out of a grocery store down the road. The angel spotted him heading his direction and turned, meeting him halfway. "What is it?" Castiel frowned and stepped closer to Dean, reaching up to brush along Dean's cheek with his thumb. "Dean? Why are you crying?"

"We found a little boy," Dean stepped back and wiped angrily at his eyes. "I had to tell him that his parents were dead. It was just _awesome_."

Castiel frowned and adjusted the strap of the gun along his shoulder. "Where is the child now?"

"With Sam," Dean sighed and shook his head. "Cas... this whole thing is tearing him up. You should see how guilty he feels. Especially having to witness this little kid suffering... how is he ever going to make it in this world?" Dean turned and headed back in the direction of the store. "I hate to see him suffer like this."

"He should feel guilty," Castiel mused and lifted his shoulders in a shrug when Dean turned a glare at him. "Dean, have you forgotten all the wrongs your brother has done? A few days in his presence and you're ready to simply forgive him?"

"I haven't forgotten," Dean snapped and stopped in his tracks, turning to Castiel and clenching his jaw in aggravation. "I'm not a fuckin' idiot Cas and I'd appreciate if you stopped treating me like one," he narrowed his eyes at the angel and took a step forward, words coming out in a quick, low whisper. "I have lived five years with the memory of the things my brother has _done_. I see it all around, all the time," Dean jerked his arm out to demonstrate his point. "But I am being given another chance for a reason and I would actually be a fuckin' idiot if I didn't try my damnedest to make it work."

Castiel was not intimidated by Dean's words or his threatening glare, but Dean didn't really expect him to be. Instead he raised his eyebrows in just the slightest, disbelieving lift. "And what exactly do you expect another chance to accomplish? Do you think you could ever love him the same way again? What hope is there for you two?"

Dean stepped back as if Castiel's words were a physical blow across his cheek. "Fuck you Cas, you don't even know what you're talking about," Dean turned before he could see the stricken look across his friend's face. There were some subjects Castiel should just learn to steer clear of. This thing with Sam was the biggest one. "Look... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that but it's-"

"You need not explain it to me," Castiel held up a hand and took a few steps toward the gas station down the street their companions were at. "It's obvious you're not going to listen to me on the subject. I wish you could see how much of a mistake this could be, without knowing Lucifer's end game and-"

"We've never known Lucifer's end game," Dean interrupted and shook his head roughly. "Just do me a favor Cas and stay out of this. It's none of your business anyway. The sooner you accept that, the better it will be for all of us."

Castiel lifted shiny blue eyes at Dean and frowned, shaking his head, "I thought I knew you Dean."

"Well, obviously you don't," Dean clenched his jaw and turned in the direction of the trucks. "Make sure everyone gathers the necessary supplies. I'll be at the trucks," Dean headed down the street without another word. His fingers curled around his gun, anger radiating off him in waves as he stormed down the street. Dean wasn't one hundred percent sure if he was angry at Castiel or himself, or the truth behind Castiel's words that he wasn't necessarily willing to admit to.

As he made his way toward the trucks he thought about the words the angel had said, what would they accomplish? Was there a point to them even trying anymore? Could Dean ever allow his brother to have that part of him again? Or would he spend the rest of their time together constantly looking over his shoulder, waiting for that next thing that would inevitably tear them apart once more? The idea of having something with Sam once more was both exhilarating and terrifying. After so many years, Dean didn't even know if he _could_ open himself up to those types of feelings again.

By the time he stepped up to the trucks he was mentally kicking himself. He shouldn't have snapped at Castiel like that, the angel was just trying to be helpful; it wasn't his fault his words were coming off so cold. He still saw things in black and white and Dean couldn't seem to get him to realize that the world was seldom that easy. He sighed heavily and threw the half-full duffel bag across the dirt, watching it skid into the tire of the nearest truck as he dug his hand up into his hair.

Sam watched Dean through the window for a few moments before he reached down to open the back door as quietly as he could. He pushed the door open with his foot, cupping the back of Caleb's head as he shifted him gently. He spoke softly over the tousled brown hair, "Dean? You okay?" It was obvious Dean wasn't okay but Sam learned a long time ago that questions worked better than statements with his older brother.

Looking up at Sam, Dean sighed softly and crossed to the truck, pulling on the door and leaning against the side of the car, considering the sleeping boy in Sam's lap. "Yeah I just... had a disagreement. It's fine though," Dean looked at the little boy again and instinctively reached out to smooth a hand along the back of the boy's head. "How's he doing? You think he's gonna be strong enough to handle the drive home?"

"I don't know." Sam rested his cheek against Caleb's head. "He's been sleeping since just after we left you really. I can't feel my arms." He grimaced and settled further down in the seat. "A disagreement with who?" Sam was pretty sure that the only person who had the ability to get Dean this riled up was Castiel.

Forcing a chuckle, Dean shook his head and trailed his hand over to Sam's arm, rubbing softly, "Cas. They're just finishing up with supplies. Did you want me to take him for a little while? We'll be hitting the road the moment they get back." Dean pursed his lips for a moment, looking at the place his hand rested on Sam's arm before withdrawing slowly.

"No," Sam spoke quickly; "I don't want him to wake up and be scared..." he glanced up at Dean, "I mean...think I left him as well or something." Sam's heart couldn't take thinking he had caused Caleb another moment of fear he didn't have to experience. "What did Cas say that made you so mad?" Sam shrugged and looked back down, "I mean, I know _he_ doesn't get mad so..."

Dean turned and picked up the bag that was resting along the truck's tire and shrugged, dropping it on the floor of the truck and pulling it open. "We don't always see eye to eye on things, unsurprisingly." Dean pulled out a stack of clothes. "I found these in the shop behind the one he was in. They should fit you alright. Couple pairs of jeans and some shirts. Fresh pair of boots too so you can give those back. Didn't know about the kid’s size so I just grabbed some general kids’ clothes. He looks about the same size as some of the ones back at the camp so he can share." He looked back up at his brother and stuffed the clothes back in the bag, pushing it along Sam's seat.

"Thanks, Dean." Sam groaned softly as he leaned back and shifted Caleb off one of his arms. Stretching his arms out he flexed his hand trying to work some feeling back into his fingers. "So... what did you and Cas talk about?" Sam was pretty sure he knew the answer to _that_ question as well. Things appeared to have been going quite smoothly between his brother and the angel until Sam's reappearance.

Sighing softly, Dean rolled his eyes, "Jesus Sam, can't you tell I'm not interested in talking about it?" He looked up at Sam and shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I was a jerk as usual, so I'll apologize when he gets back and we'll be fine okay? Let's drop it," he turned and leaned back against the side of the truck.

Dean's words stung but Sam was getting used to feeling like he deserved it. There would probably never be a time when Dean would talk to him like he once had. "Okay, I'm sorry." Sam turned to look out the window, watching as the other camp members started to appear over the crest of the hill. "You should probably go and help them," he murmured tracing, his finger through the condensation his breath left on the window.

Considering his brother for a moment, Dean sighed and stepped back. "Yeah, I'll see you later, I'm gonna ride in the other truck," he turned and walked swiftly away. Dean needed time to _think_ , and it was too hard to do that with Sam around, when all he wanted to do was fall up against his side and pull in savoring touches. And chances were Castiel would drive Sam's truck, assuming Dean would be there too. Then he could really have some time to think it out. He took one of the bags from Castiel, falling into step with him. "I'm sorry Cas. I was an asshole and I shouldn't have said those things."

"No, you probably shouldn't have," Castiel turned toward him and frowned. "But you were being honest. That is the most important thing."

Dean chuckled and clapped a hand on Castiel's shoulder, "You never fail to surprise me Cas."

"How so?" Castiel asked curiously, stopping with Dean alongside the back of the truck and putting his bag into the trunk.

Dean shrugged and set the other bag beside Castiel's. "Sam has the kid in there. His name is Caleb. So we'll stop when he wakes, give him a chance to stretch his legs. That means this truck will be in the lead."

"Okay," Castiel nodded and turned to help the new arrivals with their bags.

Sliding back in the group, Dean carried bags to store in the trucks and kept his eyes fixed on the truck where Sam was. As soon as Castiel slid in the front seat Dean turned to the other truck and walked around to the driver's side, tapping Morgan on the shoulder. "I'm gonna drive for awhile, you go ride up there with Cas and Sam okay?" Morgan looked a little confused but he nodded and handed over the keys before walking off. Dean slid behind the wheel and turned the keys in the ignition, ready to be back on the road and away from the town that had turned up so little. It was always stressful going on raids and Dean hated feeling everyone’s weight on his shoulders.

Castiel shifted the truck into drive the moment the passenger door closed and guided them out of the town, turning to the seat in surprise a moment later. "You're not Dean," he looked in the rear view mirror and caught Sam's eyes. "Did Dean snap at you as well?"

Sam shook his head. "I'm afraid I deserved what _I_ got," he smiled at Castiel. "Did you guys find anything? I know there was no one else around." Sam kept his voice low, chin resting on Caleb's head.

"Usual amount of supplies," Morgan filled in, turning around to look at Sam. "Heard about the kid, that's just sad man."

"An unfortunate circumstance of our time," Castiel nodded and fell into silence as they traveled down the road. It wasn't until Morgan was slumped against the door and fast asleep, having adjusted to sleep in a truck just like sleep in a tent under the stars, that Castiel once more looked at Sam in the rear view mirror. "How are you holding up?"

Sam found Castiel's eyes in the mirror. "I'm fine..." he lied, " ‘How's Dean?’ is the better question." If Castiel was anything, it was blunt and Sam hoped that the angel might provide him with some guidance on what to do.

"Why is that the better question?" Castiel's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "You are the one who is affected more by this situation. Dean has learned to take the blows and filter them into his thoughts. For you... everything is so new," Castiel looked back in the mirror and shook his head. "And I don't think that you _are_ fine. How could anyone be after the things you have been through?"

Blinking a few times and breathing against Caleb's hair, Sam's eyes drifted back to the darkness outside the window. "I think I deserve to die." His lashes fell to his cheeks for a few moments as a pain stabbed through his chest at the thought of leaving Dean again. "I _want_ to die." He could feel tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. "I won't ... do anything because Dean doesn't need to live through something like that…again. But yeah, that's... how I am."

Castiel pursed his lips and nodded, "I cannot imagine the level of guilt and torment that must be racking through your mind." He glanced over his shoulder before narrowing his eyes on the road. "The damage you would do to your brother however..." Castiel rolled his shoulders and cleared his throat. "It will never be easy. And I cannot promise that you will ever be better. It is something I cannot heal. I suppose none of us really knows why you are here," his eyes lifted to Sam in the mirror, watching him curiously.

"I can't help thinking it might have been better if I hadn't come back at all." Caleb stirred in his arms and Sam smoothed the boy’s hair gently. "Dean and w22; I know you never really understood us Cas but… I never meant to hurt him." It was starting to hurt every time Sam breathed in. _God_ , there had to be a limit to how much guilt and pain he could feel in one lifetime.

"No, few people rarely _mean_ to hurt the ones they love," Castiel mused quietly. "I am certain there were times when Dean hurt you as well, however unintentionally. Perhaps... you should distance yourself from your brother. If you feel being with him is only making things more difficult, then don't allow it to happen."

Eyes widening Sam turned his gaze back to the mirror. "Do you really think so? Of course you think so w22; you don't say things you don't mean." He sucked on his bottom lip for a few minutes, lost in thought. "Maybe you're right," he said finally. Castiel knew Dean better than anyone now and he might not understand all the subtle nuances of human nature but he had a good idea of what was right and wrong. It was pure selfishness that made Sam want to be around Dean. He ached for what they'd once had, the sweetness of it, the simplicity of waking up beside someone and knowing he was safe and loved.

"Where are we?" Caleb mumbled into Sam's chest and rubbed at his eyes, lifting up to look around. "Sam?" He frowned in confusion up at him, shifting on his chest.

"Hey little man," Sam smiled and let his arms fall heavily to his sides now that Caleb could sit up. "How you feeling?" At least Caleb looked a little more rested and Sam couldn't help smiling at him. The boy's hair was standing up on one side and his cheeks were puffy and red from sleep.

Caleb rolled his lips together and adjusted until he could peer out of the window. "I'm thirsty. And hungry. And I kinda gotta..." he looked at the two men up front before leaning closer to Sam. "I gotta pee," he whispered and bit down on his bottom lip.

Sam nodded knowingly and leaned to the side, "Hey Cas, can we pull over? Me and Caleb need a pit stop." He winked at Caleb.

Caleb smiled at Sam and leaned heavily against his side, squeezing his hand into a fist over his leg.

"Alright, Dean did say to pull over when the boy woke up," Castiel nodded and flicked on the signal, letting the vehicles behind him know they would be pulling over.

As soon as the truck pulled to a stop Sam opened the door and lifted Caleb down. He stumbled a little when he stood up himself, "Man, Caleb - you get heavy after a while." He smiled down at the little boy and tugged the huge jacket back up onto Caleb's shoulders. "Let's just go back through the trees here." Sam held out his hand and when Caleb took it they disappeared into the trees.

Dean slid out of the driver's seat and stretched up. His mind felt a little numb, too much over-thought. Now, he wanted to sleep until they got back to the camp and he had to do inventory over the items taken in the raid. He headed over to the truck where Castiel was still sitting behind the steering wheel. The angel had the window rolled down before Dean even drew to a stop. "How are things here?"

"Good, Sam and I were having a very nice conversation," Castiel smiled at him in that way he did sometimes that told Dean the angel was tapping into a personality trait picked up from Dean over the years.

Face drawing together, a little annoyed, Dean shook his head and walked around the truck, tapping on the passenger door. Morgan moved without hesitation, stretching his arms high above his head and yawning loudly as he headed to the second truck. Dean shut the door again and leaned against it, waiting for his brother and Caleb to return.

"Sam? Where are we going now?" Caleb asked as he tucked himself back in his pants and stepped back from the tree.

Sam stretched his aching arms up above his head and shivered. "We're gonna go back to the truck and get you into the jacket Dean found for you so I don't have to freeze to death." Sam headed back towards the vehicles knowing Caleb would follow. "You want something to eat too right?" He noticed Dean standing by the truck and smiled wearily. "Hey Dean," Sam held out his hand to Caleb. "We just need to get settled again."

Dean's lips quirked up into a small smile as he looked down at the boy, "We should be at the camp in a few hours, then you can have something nice and warm to eat, but until then, how about a snack?" Dean crouched down and pulled a packet of peanuts from his jacket.

Looking up at Sam to make sure it was okay; waiting for his nod, Caleb extended his hand and grasped the packet of peanuts. "Thank you Dean."

"You're welcome," Dean chuckled and ruffled a hand through his hair, standing up. "I'll just get him a bottle of water," he smiled at Sam for a moment before walking to the back of the truck.

"Okay! Back in the truck Caleb." Sam paced around as he watched Caleb climb back up into the back seat. He was exhausted again, probably still catching recovering from whatever the hell had happened to him. The sleeping bag and tent actually began to seem like a high-class hotel in his mind. He smiled, scratching his neck absent-mindedly as he watched Caleb munching on his peanuts; poor kid looked like he hadn't had a good meal in a while.

"Some of the men were saying they saw deer outside the camp yesterday," Dean said softly as he stepped behind Sam and leaned forward to hand the bottle of water to Caleb. "They're going to do some hunting when we get back. Hopefully we'll be able to give him some meat," Dean leaned against the car door, considering his brother with steady eyes, reaching out to lay a hand on Sam's elbow.

"I think he could use it." Sam pulled away from Dean's touch and folded his arms as he turned to the truck. "Caleb, put that jacket on that Dean got you," he nodded at the pile of clothes on the back seat. Glancing up at Dean he smiled briefly, "M’cold, need my jacket back."

Dean blinked at him, frowning at the place where his hand hovered in thin air, previously on Sam's elbow. "Right," he nodded and dropped his hand heavily. "Is everything okay?" He asked quietly, eyes flickering up to Castiel still behind the driver's wheel. "Did Cas say something?"

"What makes you think that?" Sam rubbed his arms trying to warm them up, he was covered in goosebumps. The last thing that Castiel needed was the wrath of Dean to deal with all the way back to camp.

"I thought..." Dean frowned and tugged the door open. "Forget it," he mumbled and slid into the seat, pulling the door shut behind him. "Let's get back on the road."

Sam rubbed his face with both hands, and then grabbed his jacket off the back seat. "Shove over Caleb," he smiled at the little boy and climbed into the truck beside him. "We're ready," he said as he slammed the door a little harder than he'd intended. "Sorry," he muttered.

Castiel started up the truck and looked over at Dean for a moment, lifting his shoulder in a shrug and waiting for the trucks behind him to start before shifting the car into drive.

Dean glanced over his shoulder at Sam and Caleb, watching the little boy slide up against Sam's side and fold their hands together. His heart clenched slightly, watching the already fond expression on Sam's face as he peered down at the little boy. After a few minutes he turned back to the windshield, leaning heavily against the door. He wished he understood the unease settling over him. Things had been tense between him and Sam, sure, but Sam had never flat out pulled away as if he didn't want Dean touching him at all. It made his heart hurt slightly and he sighed, chalking it up to Sam just being extra careful in front of an already confused little boy.

Leaning against the passenger door he let his eyes fall close and folded in on himself. It felt like only moments later that he was opening his eyes and they were pulling up in front of the clearing they used as a campsite the night before. He glanced back over at his brother once more before kicking open the door and walking around back to get his duffel, Sam's, and the bag with the tent parts in it. Dean smiled at Caleb when the little boy looked up at him and shifted the bags on his shoulder. "I'm just gonna set up the tent, then we can figure out where Caleb is going to stay for the night," he spoke quietly to Sam.

"Listen, Dean," Sam ran his hand through his hair, "maybe he and I should have our own tent. I think it might be better," he eyes darted away from Dean's, "for everyone." It really shouldn't have hurt as much as it did to say that, but Sam just focused on Castiel's words and the hope that maybe things could be better for Dean if Sam pulled away.

Dean's heart sank and he stepped back, a surprise sharp prick sparking along his eyelids. "Fine," he snapped and turned away, dropping the bag with the tent in it. "You can use that," he brushed past Sam and walked around to the back of the truck again, grabbing his sleeping back. Dean didn't understand. He thought things were on the path of getting better, slow little steps, and suddenly Sam was completely pulling away. _Fuck_. Dean was not ready for this type of pain again. He'd thought those days of hurting so bad were behind him.

Sam's voice was shaky, "C'mon Caleb, let's get this tent set up."

It probably took Sam a lot longer to set up the tent _with_ Caleb's help, but it seemed to distract the boyw22; which was a good thing, considering what he'd been through. By the time they'd finished spreading out the sleeping bags Caleb was yawning again so Sam knew it would be an early night. They ate quietly around a small fire. Normally, they wouldn't burn a fire unless they absolutely had to but two of the men had come back with a deer and Dean had thought that it would be a good idea for everyone to eat some protein. Caleb managed to eat some meat and a few more peanuts before he was falling asleep on Sam again, so Sam heaved the boy up into his arms and disappeared into the tent with him. By the time Sam had Caleb settled and returned to the fire Dean was the only one still there. He'd spread out his sleeping bag and was lying on his side staring at the flames. "Hey," Sam said, "can I sit for a while?"

Dean glanced up at his brother and nodded, twisting the cap off a fresh bottle of whiskey he'd brought from his cabin. The alcohol probably wasn't the smartest idea but it would help keep him warm, and help him sleep, so he tipped the bottle back and took a long pull. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he held the bottle out to his brother and coughed, "Kid settle in okay?"

Sam took the bottle, fingers brushing over Dean's as he did so. "He's…tired and sad and he wants his parents." It made Sam's chest ache even to have to say those words out loud. "I don't know what to say to him. Maybe, _don't worry Caleb this is my entire fault... so you can trust me._ " He took a long pull on the bottle and gasped as he swallowed.

Biting off a harsh chuckle, Dean drew his legs up and wrapped an arm around them, "No, I don't think that would go over very well." He turned slightly to peer at his brother and took the offered bottle, pulling another long drink from it. "Trust me, no one ever knows what to say to any of the survivors that we find. But... kids are always the quickest to bounce back. Once we get him settled, and he gets around kids to play with, he'll get better. Or at least…he won't feel so alone. Everybody can relate to one another because we’ve all lost something over this," Dean offered the bottle to Sam once more and sighed softly.

"Some people have lost more than others," Sam muttered under his breath as he shook his head. The last thing he needed was to be drunk around his brother. That would be a recipe for disaster. "I was just going to ask you if Cas had gone to bed and then I realized that I don't even know if he sleeps..." Sam huffed out a laugh and shifted on the log trying to get comfortable.

"He sleeps now," Dean nodded and pulled the bottle back to bring to his lips. A few more long drinks later he felt the pleasant burn of alcohol along his senses and he screwed the cap back on, setting the bottle beside his pack. "I think he does it more to pass the time than anything else though. Not much to do when you're up and alone," Dean shrugged and picked up a stick to poke at the dying fire. "Did you need him for something?"

"Nah," Sam sighed and stretched his legs out, "was just wondering. It was nice to talk to him earlier; he's a straightforward guy." Sam let his head fall back and looked up half-expecting there to be stars before he remembered the amount of smoke and cloud coverage there was in the sky. "You tired?"

Dean scoffed and slowly nodded, "You could say that." He considered Sam for a long minute before stretching out on his sleeping bag, and tucking an arm under his head to stare up at nothing. "Sometimes it's not always the best thing, to be straight forward. And no, I'm not sleeping... It's more of a physical requirement. Sleep." He didn't add that sleeping wasn't really his favorite activity, or that he'd slept better the past few nights with his brother at his side then he had in years.

"I think you and I should keep a little distance between us," Sam blurted out. He cringed and pinched the bridge of his nose as his heart picked up speed.

Lifting up to look at his brother with sad eyes, Dean nodded. "Fine. Whatever you want," he pushed the edge of the sleeping bag down and curled his legs inside. Apparently seeing all the damage to the world had not only served to make his brother guilty and miserable, it had wedged yet another thing between them and Dean wondered why he'd ever entertained the notion that they could be getting better.

"It's just that..." Sam couldn't stand the look in his brother's eyes, "I was talkin' to Cas earlier and I think maybe I'm... bad for you, you know? Like we're just not meant to be... _together_..." it was hard for him to get the word out. _Together_. It was such a small word to describe the millions of things it mean to him. "And Cas, well… I think that if I hurt you again... that'll be it. I can't live with myself if I…if I hurt you anymore."

"I think Cas should butt his nose out of our business," Dean growled and sat up, peering at his brother. "If I choose to take that chance with you, then that's my decision and I can't just... _not_ want that," he shook his head roughly and reached out for the whiskey. "But I'm not gonna force you into anything so if that's your decision then _fine_." He pulled long and hard from the bottle and coughed on the burn.

"Dean, I'm trying to figure out how to make this better somehow. When did you get so... difficult?" Sam sighed.

Rolling his eyes Dean took another long drink from the bottle and recapped the lid, "Hmmm let's see... what could _possibly_ have made me so difficult?" He shook his head and blew out a long breath. "What am I supposed to think Sam? You share my bed, you let me kiss you, and then you suddenly decide there should be some distance between us? How am I supposed to handle that?"

"Yeah, well," Sam stared into the fire, "we both know I fuck things up a lot. Usually what I want is the opposite of what I should do," he pushed up from the log and walked a short distance away to try and see if he could see any lights in the distant city. "Dean, I want what we had, and that can't exist anymore. I want to have not made the decisions I made so that that little kid in there wouldn't be clinging to me like I'm the last person alive that he can trust." Sam could feel panic start to take hold of him, his fists clenched at his sides and his heart started to race. "I...I did all that...and Caleb, he thinks that somehow I can make things better for him," Sam could feel tears prickling in his eyes and a sharp pain shot through his chest. Grimacing Sam dropped down to one knee. "Dean..."

Pushing up to his feet Dean trailed after Sam and moved around to drop to his knees in front of his brother. Dean was out of his league on how to comfort Sam from the pain and guilt tearing through him. "Sammy..." he whispered and lifted his hand, cupping the side of Sam's face, "You're right... we can't have what we had before. But that doesn't mean we can't have something else," Dean slid his hand behind Sam's neck and massaged softly. "I can't even imagine how hard this is on you, but you're not alone. You don't have to go through this all by yourself." He pulled his brother forward and rested their foreheads together.

Sam's heart was racing, "Dean... I don't think I can do this." He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to slow his breathing down. He could feel tears leaving a cool path down his cheeks. "I thw22;think there are some things," he hiccupped in a few breaths, "that people can't live with." He could feel Dean's breath, warm and moist on his cheek; _just like when we were kids and Dean made the nightmares go away._

"You have to Sam," Dean whispered, trying to not let his voice take on an urgent tone. "You can't leave me again. I can't take this. You can't just continue to come and go in my life and I..." he sighed and let his hand fall away from Sam's neck, sitting back on his feet. "I don't know why you're here with me now Sam, but this is your chance to start over."

"I didn't fuckin' crash the family car Dean! I destroyed the world." Sam swiped at the tears on his face with his sleeve and sat down heavily on his ass. "I'm... sw22;sorry. I'll be fine. I just need to…get my shit together. Or something." He heaved in a shuddering breath and held his hands out in front of him as though he was fascinated by the way they were shaking. After a few long moments Sam looked up into his brother's eyes. "What do _you_ think I should do?"

"Stop beating yourself up over this," Dean murmured, watching Sam's hands for a moment before looking up at his face. "Jesus Sam I don't have an answer for this. There is no easy solution. But nothing is ever going to happen if you don't _stop_ torturing yourself over this. Okay, you fucked up. We can both accept that. And no, you shouldn't have said ‘yes’ to Lucifer, but you did, it happened and it's done. God knows I've done my own share of stupid fucked up things. You just have to keep moving forward afterwards, that's the only real choice." Dean sighed softly and scrubbed a hand over his hair. The words sounded pathetic even to his own ears; how did someone _get over_ something like this?

Sam stared into Dean's eyes and reached out to grab his hand. "Dean, do you trust me? Can you say that you trust me one hundred percent? That you trust me with your life?" Sam's fingers moved restlessly over Dean's palm and he shifted closer so that their knees were touching.

Lips thinning out into a straight line, Dean sighed softly and considered the question. He'd almost rather not touch it. Any answer he had wouldn't please either of them, but Dean had to be honest. "Sam, you're my brother and that's never gonna change. And I know, as my brother, you would do all in your power to watch my back. So yes, I trust you with my life," he sighed softly and fixed his eyes on Sam's features. "But... there are so many other things I can't trust you withw22;my heart, amongst other things. I thought I might be able to, I put that out there and you almost instantly pulled back. The risk is too great. I mean, you said _‘yes’_ to _Lucifer_ , Sam. Who's to say you won't go doing something else just as drastic the minute things get a little rough? How am I supposed to overlook that?" Dean dropped his eyes, not wanting to see the look of pain on Sam's face he knew those words were likely to cause.

Even though the words made sense, hearing Dean say themw22;watching his lips actually form the soundsw22;tore a hole through Sam's heart. He nodded slowly, almost imperceptibly as his eyes welled up with fresh tears. "Dean, I had to have had a reason - I just ... I just wish I could remember, tell you why," He looked down, "tell you _something_." Sam sat back on his heels, pulling away slightly, "I'm sorry, I thought ... Castiel and I talked, and I thought I understood. I get that what I did…" his voice broke and he looked away to the side for a few moments. "What I did was wrong and dangerous and all kinds of fuckin' stupid, I know that," He gestured to the firelight they could see off in the distance, "all that is my fault, mine alone. I will spend the rest of my life trying to make that right."

Sam pushed up off the ground and wiped at his cheeks with the back of his hand, "It hurts most that I..." he clenched his teeth together trying to fight back his tears, "that I let you down, that I ruined this." He reached down and brushed his fingers across Dean's hair, "You... losing you...was the _one_ mistake I never thought that I would make." He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and took a deep breath before releasing the air.

Dean stood as well, bracing himself for the wave of emotions that crashed through him. He had to swallow a few times around the bite before he could get his throat to work, "Me either." He sighed softly and stepped in to wrap his arms around Sam. Dean had noticed, when their relationship changed, how their hugs shifted along with it. There were the brother hugs and then, the lover hugs. This one was more a detached version of the brother hug; stiff and tension filled. Dean pulled away before he could think it over any longer. "Should get some sleep," Dean pursed his lips and stepped toward the fire. "I hope you can get to that place Sam...where you feel you've made some amends," Dean looked up at his brother for a long moment before slowly making his way back to the fire.

Sam stood there gazing out into the darkness, eyes moving from one distant fire to another, _all my fault._ When his hands finally stopped shaking he moved back into the halo of light around the campfire and crouched down by the tent flap. "You can sleep in here with us... if you want." He peered in at Caleb who was sleeping restlessly. "There's room." He glanced back over his shoulder.

Dean's mind flashed to the night before, kissing Sam in the tent, the way their mouths had fit together so _perfectly_. His heart clenched slightly and he looked down at his sleeping bag. "Probably better if I stay out here," it didn't mean he agreed with Castiel w22;not in the slightestw22; it was still just their business, but their conversation reminded Dean that it would never be that easy between them again. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah," Sam said softly. He slipped inside the tent quietly, leaving his boots outside the flap. There was more than enough room for Sam's long body and he stretched out, turning on his side so he could watch Caleb's face. Even in sleep the little boy looked pained, and Sam thought he couldn't take another moment of sadness before he'd just break apart. Then Caleb blinked his eyes open sleepily, smiled and shimmied over against Sam's chest. Sam fell asleep with Caleb's small fingers gripping his shirt tightly.

For a while Dean stared up at the sky, thinking about his brother and this twisted fate that brought them colliding back together. He tried to think about a world that was nicer, better for them, but his mind couldn't seem to reach back that far. Sometimes Dean felt like he'd been living for hundreds of years and he was still always looking for that one time and place where things just felt _right_. Dean thought he may have had it once but, he couldn't be sure. At some point he drifted off and thought about gentle touches and soothing words and moments of perfection he figured he'd never have again.


	5. Chapter 5

By the time Sam and Caleb emerged from the tent, Dean and the others had almost everything packed up. Dean tried not to let his gaze snap instantly to his brother but he couldn't help it. Every time Sam appeared, it was like a little wash of relief soared through him. Sam was still alive, still here with him, and no matter what the reason was beyond that, a little part of Dean would always be comforted by it. Especially after spending so long assuming his brother had suffered a fate worse than death, becoming Lucifer's vessel; saying ‘yes’ to that. Once the two began tearing down their tent, Dean went to find Castiel so he could make a genuine apology for the day before. It wouldn't do for the people of their group to sense the tension between them, especially since Castiel was seen as Dean's second in command. Of course, the angel was forgiving and he very grudgingly made the promise not to bring up the Sam issue unless it was a dire situation. Dean just couldn't handle rehashing it any longer. So they finished packing up their gear and ate a quick meal of leftover deer meat before piling into trucks to start the journey back to the camp.

Caleb stuck to Sam's side like glue though, in many ways, it was comforting for Sam. Caleb's smile, and the way his sad doe-eyes looked up at Sam made his heart ache less. Whereas, every time his eyes moved across Dean's form, it felt like the hole in his heart had opened up again. But he knew that Dean was right - there was only one future for them, as brothers, and Sam was going to have to work at even having that. At least, with Caleb, he could mean _something_. Caleb slept on Sam's lap most of the way back to the camp, until Sam’s leg went to sleep, at which point he curled up against his side. Sam made himself a silent promise; he'd never let anything happen to Caleb, would never let him down.

By the time they arrived back at the camp Sam was dying to get up and stretch his legs. Everything worked like clockwork. People were glad to see them back; Caleb was welcomed into the fold, even though he received most of the welcomes from behind Sam's leg. The trucks were unpacked, new supplies quickly stored away and the vehicles refitted for any emergency journey. Caleb's small fingers slipped into Sam's hand as they walked behind Dean toward his cabin.

Dean had a bit of a routine post successful raidsw22; he left the door to his cabin open as he crossed to the kitchen area to get a bottle of whiskey. He pulled out two glasses and a small can of apple juice from a large box. His eyes lifted to Sam and Caleb for a moment before he half filled both glasses and carried all three items to the table, dropping down. "Have a seat," he gestured and slid the glass of whiskey to Sam's seat and the can of juice to Caleb's. "It's a post-raid tradition. A silent thanks that things went okay," he smiled at Caleb. "Thought you might like something with other than water but you can't tell the other kids I have a stash okay?"

Caleb glanced up at Sam for silent permission before he crossed the cabin and climbed up into the chair, leaning forward and snatching the apple juice eagerly. "Thanks Dean. I won't tell anyone I promise," he popped the top on the can and took a small, experimental sip. "It's good!" He said excitedly to Sam, bringing the can up for another long drink.

Sam smiled, turning his glass round and round with his fingers. "Dean," he looked up at his brother, "where do... we stay?" He glanced down at Caleb and reached out to brush the boy's hair back off his face. Sam already suspected that he wouldn't be welcome to stay at Dean's cabin; welcome or not, it probably would start talk around the camp. Dean had been clear before that he didn't want anyone to know that they were brothers.

Clearing his throat after a small sip from his glass, Dean surveyed the cabin around him and sighed softly, "Well, I suppose we have a few issues there. We don't have any extra cabins, though I'm sure we could gather the supplies to build them, it would take time. There's an extra bed in the kids cabin, if Caleb wants to stay there. Or...I could bring a bed in here; I don't usually share with anyone because I think I give off a vibe or something." Dean smiled softly toward Caleb, watching the boy drink slowly from his can. "Where would you like to stay Caleb?"

Caleb lifted wide eyes to Sam before looking back at Dean. "Can I... stay with Sam? I don't know those other kids..." he frowned slightly and looked back at Sam. "Can I stay with you? I promise not to snore or anything," his smiled hopefully up at Sam.

Dean's heart clenched slightly and he chuckled softly. This kid could be really good for his brother; Sam already seemed softer with him around.

Nodding, Sam smiled down at the boy. "Sure Caleb, of course you and I can stay together. As long as it's okay with Dean if we're his...roommates for a while, till there's another place." Killing time; waiting to take another step further away from Dean. Sam quickly tossed back the contents of his glass, enjoying the distraction of the burn. The glass empty, he slid it away from him and looked up questioningly at Dean. "Just a while? Till there's something else?" More than anything, Sam wished they could skip through this wretched painful part, the confusion, and be more settled with each other.

"I offered didn't I?" Dean met Sam's gaze for a moment before he turned back to the little boy. "You can both stay here, but during the days Caleb you'll have to go to the lessons Miss. Jacobs teaches okay? I'm sure you'll be able to catch up pretty fast and this way you won't be bored hanging around here with us losers all day," he smiled again at the boy before tipping his own glass back. Castiel wasn't going to like the idea of Sam and Dean sharing a cabin but, Caleb would be a buffer and make it impossible for the angel to protest.

"I can do that," Caleb nodded. "My mom was teaching me to read books. And do adding." He smiled and nodded, fingers curling around the can of juice.

Pushing up from the table, Dean grabbed Sam's glass and headed toward the kitchen once more. "Okay I'll go around and find a spare bed or um... two? One for either of you?" Dean looked at Sam curiously for a moment, wondering if he'd allow the boy to spend every night curled up against him. Dean could probably voice a few opinions on the subject, but he kept his mouth shut.

"Two beds is fine, Caleb's a big boy right?" Sam smiled down at him after shooting a half glare at his brother.

"Yup," Caleb nodded, though he looked a little unsure of the statement.

"Right," Dean set the glasses on the counter and turned to cross the room to his bed, considering the space. It looked like Sam and Caleb's beds would fit better in the living room area but he'd figure out the logistics later. With a slow exhale he rubbed his hand along the back of his neck and considered whether or not this was the wisest decision. Settling on the truth that there were really no other options, Dean pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before turning back to Sam and Caleb. "I guess we better go and find you both some beds then huh?"

"If it's a problem, Dean... we can find somewhere else to stay." Sam's eyes moved quickly away from his brother's face. He sighed and wondered how quickly he could build something for them to stay in - maybe with Castiel's help he could round up some men and get something thrown together quickly.

Dean fixed Sam with his gaze; reeling in the abundance of things he wanted to say in return to that but couldn't with Caleb right there. "Once again, I offered didn't I?" He met Sam's eyes, turning away a moment later. "Unless you'd rather not, then I can see the issue."

In two steps Sam was right behind his brother, lips almost touching Dean's ear. "I don't want this to be fuckin' awful for everyone," he whispered, "especially Caleb." He tried hard to ignore the familiar smell of his brother's hair and the fact that his finger were itching to slid up over Dean's shoulders. "I know how you feel, I get it, but I want this kid to be okay."

Heat flared through Dean as his shoulders stiffened and he turned slightly to meet his brother's eyes. They were too close, his heart kick-started into overtime and he wet his lips. "I wouldn't have offered if I didn't want you staying here and you know that. So stop making me feel like the asshole here, okay?" He had to work to keep his eyes fixed on Sam's and not on his lips like he wanted them to be.

Flinching slightly, Sam stepped back, turned and walked back over to Caleb. "Okay buddy, you wanna take a look around the camp with me or you want to help Dean find us some beds?" His heart was just about jammed into his throat and Sam didn't care why they left, he just wanted to get out.

"I wanna walk around," Caleb slid off the chair, snatching his juice to drain its contents before taking Sam's hand. "Thank you Dean," he called over his shoulder as he followed Sam out of the cabin.

Dean watched them go, heart sinking heavily in his chest. "Fuck," he whispered and turned away from the door. This _fucking_ sucked. He took a few minutes to compose himself, to stifle the confusion and hurt and anger, before heading out of the cabin in pursuit of two spare beds and able bodies to move them.

It took a few minutes for Sam to realize that his angry pace was making Caleb run along behind him. He slowed down, tried to take shorter strides and focused on breathing more slowly, in and out.

Caleb was fascinated by everything and Sam was pleased to see a bit of sadness drain from the little boys face.

The camp was set up in a large U shape. Everything protected by a large barbed wire topped fence. Sam could see that the people who lived there had invested years of their time to make it as safe as possible. The cabins were all small, single-rooms, none any different in floor plan from Dean's. Other people, however, had begun to personalize their cabins. Handmade wreaths were on some of the doors, wind chimes made from door knobs, one cabin had a makeshift porch with an awning. The only resident who didn't look like he'd made a _home_ was Dean. His cabin was blank, perfunctory, no luxury.

Caleb's hand found its way once more into Sam's as they came upon one of the camp dogs. He was a beautiful black lab, _Henry_ his collar said. Another refugee from the world Sam had destroyed. Soon enough - as is the way of dogs and little boys - Caleb and Henry were fast friends and racing around the yard with each other. Sam took the time to get to know the camp. There were eight cabins including Dean's, one might be Castiel's. The rest of the cabins were occupied by the survivors.

His eyes moved around the courtyard. There was a bathhouse at the far end of the clearing - from what Sam could see it was like the ones the military built when they settled a base camp somewhere. In the middle of the yard there were several beds of vegetables and what looked like some small fruit trees. It was the strangest combination; the military sharpness and structure with the human _decorations_. The sounds of Henry yelping happily as Caleb laughed were a shocking contrast to the quiet camp. It lifted Sam's spirit a little, listening to the laughter. He knew that Caleb was _far_ from okay, but it was a start.

By the time they wandered back to Dean's cabin, finished for the time being with their exploration, beds had been dragged into the living room and Dean was moving about efficiently. Sam watched his brother through the window for a few moments before heading inside, smiling sadly as he pushed the door open.

Caleb burst into the room and instantly began informing Dean of all the things he'd seen on their exploration. He was talking a mile a minute and Dean smiled fondly down at him, laying a hand on his shoulder and guiding him to the smaller bed and a set of drawers there. He explained to Caleb that the clothes there were extras from others at the camp so he would have to thank the other kids some time. In the last drawer there was a small selection of toys and Dean couldn't help beaming a little when Caleb whipped around excitedly to tell Sam about them before diving into the drawer to check out the items.

Once he seemed a little more settled, Dean crossed to the set of drawers by Sam's bed and jerked his head in a silent invitation. When Sam was close enough to see the drawers, Dean pulled open the middle one and set the clothes on top before hooking his finger in a tiny hole along the side. "I put a few things here," Dean nodded down at the gun and knife resting in the hidden compartment. "This is a safe camp for the most part but it never hurts to have that protection," glancing up at his brother, Dean shrugged before sliding the panel back into place and lay the clothes back over the wooden surface.

As the panel slid back Sam nodded slowly. It was a reminder of the _reality_ of the camp; it might look like people were settled but they'd be ready to move on in minutes if they had to. Survival instinct had a strange way of changing people. Sam reached out for Dean's wrist, stopped short and let his hand fall back to his side, "Thanks, Dean." Sam's fingers clenched into a fist, "We’ll work hard on getting our own place." He leaned closer to speak softly, "I'd like to keep Caleb with me if that's okay." Now? He couldn't stand the idea of Caleb disappearing into the crowd of children in the camp.

Dean nodded and turned away. He couldn't get his throat to work around the words, to tell Sam that he wanted him to stay there, Caleb too. That already his empty little hole of a world felt a little fuller. There were too many off moments, sliding things off kilter, the good consistently contrasting with the bad. "Hey Caleb, you hungry?"

At the mention of food Caleb looked up, dropping an Etch-a-Sketch that had caught his interest and walking quickly around to lean against Sam's legs. "Uh huh," he nodded and glanced up at Sam. "You're not going anywhere right?"

"Not for a long time buddy." Sam tousled Caleb's hair; if he'd learned anything it was that there were no certainties. The last thing he would do was give Caleb false promises and untruths. He grew up with that himself and obviously, he hadn't learned how to make all the right decisions. Glancing up at Dean Sam smiled slightly, "I could eat."

Dean pursed his lips as he turned away. He wouldn't warn the child how dangerous questions like those were. Caleb was still young enough that any naivety he could hold about their harsh and cold world, he should be allowed that. Dean only hoped he wouldn't have to pick those pieces later on. Dean gathered up a few bottles of water and a container filled with a fresh supply of a type of cornbread the women in the camp made.

Caleb tugged Sam over to the table, dropping down into a chair and curling his tiny fingers around the water bottle in front of him. "We saw a doggy Dean. Does he belong to you? Are there lots of doggies here?"

Walking back into the kitchen to grab some dried meats and a selection of fruit from the trees, Dean nodded, "We have a weird selection of animals around here; quite a few dogs and cats. We have some horses and stuff in a stable a couple hundred yards from him." Dean looked at them as he set the food down on the table and dropped down. "In case our cars stop working or something," Dean smiled softly at Caleb and set an apple down in front of him before grabbing his own and settled back in the chair.

"You guys have made a home here…well," Sam reached out and took a bite of cornbread, "everyone else has. You don't seem all that settled." He looked around the room at the sparse furnishings and complete lack of decoration. "You have any pencils or something? Maybe Caleb could draw something for us...for you..." Sam sighed. It was going to be a long road to getting anywhere close to comfortable around his brother, and that just seemed so unfair. Sam put his cornbread back on the table and leaned back in his chair. Reaching out, he let his hand settle on Caleb's back, smiled when the boy looked up at him, and felt his chest tighten. Maybe if he just made things a little better for Caleb...

"Sure," Dean nodded and stared down at the food. It was routine to force himself to eat the food, even if it wasn't always the best. Some things you just got used too. "This was never home," he added as a soft, under note. Of all people Sam would understand how hard it was to attach yourself to one place, especially if you'd spent your entire life traveling to motel after motel. Sam had once been his home and Sam had never been in this place. Dean wondered if that would change now that Sam was here.

Caleb munched on his apple, speaking around the fruit in his mouth, "Where was your home?" He smiled at Dean, his face the picture of innocence. He seemed quite content to be here in this place and Dean found himself mildly envying how easily Caleb could accept everything.

Dean scratched at the back of his neck and frowned down at the cornbread. "My home wasn't so much a where," he shrugged and pushed up from the table, crossing to the kitchen to grab the whiskey bottle. If there were going to be tough questions, he was going to have the advantage of alcohol. "Sam?" He asked, holding up a second cup in question.

Sam nodded, hoping a little _dulling_ of his senses might help. "Dean was on the road a lot when he was a kid." He smiled down at Caleb, watching the boys legs swing back and forth where they hung from the edge of the chair. _So young._ ”He didn't have a home that was in one spot, kind of like me." Sam reached out for the drink Dean slid across the table toward him.

"You moved a lot?" Caleb asked curiously, picking at his corn bread. "Were things a lot different before the bad things came?"

Dropping back down into his chair, Dean's eyes lingered on his brother over the rim of his glass. He knew Sam was most likely beating himself up over the whole thing once more. "There were a lot of different things," Dean nodded, wondering how much of that time Caleb remembered. "How old are you Caleb?"

"Nine," Caleb smiled as if he was very proud of this. "I turned nine last week and my mom found me a chocolate bar. It was pretty hard but it was good," Caleb beamed at Sam. "Do you have chocolate here?"

"You know, Caleb," Sam interrupted suspecting there had been no chocolate there for a long time, "when I was your age I was really lucky. I had a big brother who loved me very much, looked after me all the time." Sam smiled, the warmth he felt for Dean still so strong. But he avoided Dean's gaze.

Caleb smiled at Sam brightly and rubbed at some grit on his cheek. "I used to have an older brother," he bit down on his lip for a moment before turning in his chair to face Sam. "What happened to your brother? Did he get sick too?"

Dean's heart clenched slightly and he tipped the whiskey bottle over his glass, filling it halfway and setting the bottle down harder than he intended.

"No buddy, my brother is still okay." Sam's face softened into sadness. "Sometimes, as people grow up they make mistakes and sometimes," he took a drink, "those mistakes are so big they have to leave." Something painful and sharp shifted deep inside Sam's chest. "I screwed up pretty bad a lot of times," he swallowed down the tension rising in his throat. "My brother forgave me so many times I think it kind of broke him inside and he couldn't do it again." Sam brushed Caleb's hair back off his face.

Dean slammed his glass down on the table, pushing back in his chair and crossing the cabin in quick steps. He couldn't listen to Sam talk like this to Caleb; it hurt his heart far too much. He tugged open the back door the cabin and stepped through, slamming the door shut behind him.

With wide eyes Caleb turned from the closed door to Sam, "What's the matter with Dean? Did he lose his brother?" Caleb's lip trembled slightly, a little scared by the sudden and loud departure of Dean. Caleb curled his fingers around the bottom of the chair and tried to shift it closer to Sam.

Sam nodded, "yeah, Dean's brother is gone." He slung his arm over Caleb's shoulder. "Eat up."

-=-=-=-

There was only so much Dean could take and he was beginning to worry that his limit was quickly being reached. Dean was still reeling from Sam's abrupt and confusing departure from this afternoon, and now he was saying things to Caleb that weren't even _true_. Dean silently hated that his brother was so quick to assume how Dean was feeling. Sam didn't _know_. He didn't live in Dean's brain, he couldn't possibly be fully aware of the thoughts constantly whirling through his mind. It would have been a lot easier if he could put a finger on those emotions, then maybe he'd be able to give Sam something to ease the tension laying thick on them.

Dean walked the parameter of the camp at a slow, familiar pace. He could see inside the cabins, illuminated in the setting sun. It was an odd sort of environment he found himself in and truthfully, Dean didn't spend a lot of time considering it. For years now he'd been settled into this place, the group growing one person at a time, and Dean liked every one of them. Without even realizing it, Dean had acquired himself a family unit, and a group of friends. Even if they constantly looked to him for wisdom and guidance, it was a role he could handle.

By the time he'd made it back to his cabin the sun had set behind the trees and the only light was the soft glows from lanterns inside each cabin. Dean pulled the back door to his cabin open slowly. Sam and Caleb were sitting on Caleb's bed and Sam was reading to him from one of the books Dean had brought with the toys for the child. Dean's heart clenched tightly in his chest and he turned to walk to his own bed. It was oddly unsettling, watching his brother being so tender with a child. Dean wasn't an idiot; he knew Sam had to see the boy as the very impediment of outcome of his choices. Caleb would end up being the one to redeem Sam.

Sighing softly, Dean toed out of his boots and pulled off his coat. Emotionally, he was worn thin and wanted nothing more than to drink himself into oblivion. He didn't though. Instead, he simply slipped out of his jeans and tugged off his shirt before climbing under the blanket. Dean rolled on his side, staring at the back wall as he listened to the soft murmur of Sam's voice followed by the higher, more inquisitive whispers from Caleb.

Dean felt unpleasantly lonely, more than he had in years. Even after everything, after five years of being Lucifer's meat suit, Sam could relate to this child and connect with him. Dean would never be like that. He couldn't connect with anyone anymore. Five years he'd basically been all alone; Sam had been back for less than a week and already he'd found something special in the eyes of an adoring child. Realizing that his heart was so cold and hard stung, but he had no idea how to change that.

Eventually the murmur's died off and the mattress shifted as Sam tucked Caleb in. Dean didn't move; just let Sam think he was asleep. It was safer, or _easier_ , on his heart. Though for a moment, he was tempted to just roll toward Sam and beg him to warm that cold ache in his heart because he couldn't stand living like this anymore. But Dean wasn't strong enough to do that.

Sam stroked Caleb's hair until he finally fell asleep. He was becoming more and more determined to make sure that Caleb found the stability and love that he would need to find his way through the loss he was dealing with. It was the least he could do. And, being able to do something that actually made someone else feel betterw22; made a difference to a little kidw22; might repair some of the damage to his soul. It couldn't hurt.

Sam slipped out of his clothes and hung them across the end of his bed. Looking across at his brother, he stood there watching the covers move as Dean breathed steadily in and out. He was lonely; he wanted the closeness he and Dean had once shared, the reason to _want_ to be alive. Taking a deep breath he moved over; hesitated just a moment then pulled Dean's cover back gently and slipped in bed behind him. Just like his body had never forgotten where it belonged, his arm snaked over Dean's waist and he curled into his warmth.

It was probably the very last thing Dean expected, the almost ghostly familiar warmth of his brother, and Dean rolled under his arm, wide eyes searching up to meet his brother's. He pursed his lips slightly, waiting for Sam to react to the knowledge that he was still awake and clearly well aware of his presence. When Sam didn't instantly recoil he lifted his arm, letting his fingers rest on Sam's chest and slide slowly along the broad expanse. It felt nice, the heat and touch, and Dean entertained the idea that Sam really could make this all better just by holding him. "Sam," he whispered, shifting forward to let his legs rest against Sam, as if he were unable to resist the urge to _touch_.

Sam's breath hitched in his chest, "Thought you were sleeping," he whispered. _God_ , Dean's eyes were gorgeous. They always were the one part of his brother that told the truth, no matter what. "I need... I mean, I wanted..." Sam wanted all the years gone, all the hurt gone. Leaning in slightly he brushed their lips together. "Never stopped wanting you," he murmured.

Sucking in a quick breath, Dean couldn't resist curving into his brother's body, lips sliding together a little more firmly. "I..." he mumbled against his brother's lips, arm snaking around behind his neck, massaging gently, "Sam I want..." he gasped softly as his heart clenched as his body molded against his brother. His mind screamed to stop, to use the logic that said they couldn't just be _this_ again, but in all his sense, his body _wanted_ and Dean had never felt so torn.

It was perfectly tender and terrifying and Sam's heart must have been the loudest sound in the room. They fitted together just like they always had; two pieces of a puzzle. The heat from Dean's body set Sam's muscles trembling and he spread his fingers wide along the flesh of Dean's lower back. His teeth were clenched; jaw aching but he didn't want to wake Caleb. Moans were so close to falling from his lips just from the look in Dean's eyes. His brother didn't hate him, didn't want Sam gone. They were just so lost. He breathed Dean's breath for a while, mouths almost touching, and then he ran his tongue along Dean's bottom lip.

Dean could feel the moment shifting, could feel his body melting into Sam's and his heart stung so sharply with fear and anxiety he couldn't breathe. His eyes pricked with unshed tears as he slid back from Sam, shaking his head and forcing back the choke of a sob in his throat. "I'm sorry Sam, I can't..." his heart sank and his stomach churned unpleasantly in his gut, "I can't take that risk... it's..." Dean shook his head, dropping his eyes and blowing out a shaky breath. "We can't." God, Dean wished he could say anything but that. But his mind wouldn't let him forget the past and the very real possibility that something like that could happen once more.

Closing his eyes, Sam held his breath for a few moments, frozen. It hurt, but Dean's words were gentle and his eyes were warm; both of them were hurting and this just wasn't the place they were to find solace in anymore. Dean was rightw22;he'd just always been the one with more strength. Sam pressed warm, dry lips to his brother's forehead as his hand slid up to cup the side of Dean's neck. "I'm _so_ sorry," he whispered against Dean's forehead. _One more kiss_. Swallowing down the arguments he knew were pointless, Sam smiled sadly and moved his lips across Dean's once more. "I love you," he whispered. He slipped out of his brother's bed quietly and tugged the covers back on his own. It was cold and he turned away from Dean so his brother wouldn't see the tears on his face.

Rolling away from his brother's bed, Dean pulled in a sharp breath before burying his head in his pillow. A quick sob shook his shoulders and he stifled it as much as possible in the cotton. Apparently Dean had reached his limit. He tightened his fingers along the pillow, pressing forward as hard as he could, temporarily considering how easy it would be to just make this all go away for good. But Dean could never do that, so he simply soaked in the misery of gut-wrenching half sobs until his body felt weak and exhausted and he thought he finally might be able to drift off to sleep.

Sam stayed awake until he couldn't hear Dean's muffled sobs, listened for his even breathing, wanting to know he was okay enough to sleep. When his eyes finally closed, his lashes were still damp with tears.

-=-=-=-

Caleb wasn't aware of it, but he was the only genuinely happy person staying in the cabin. As his first week went by, Caleb adjusted to life at the camp. Mostly he trailed after Sam, but after a few days Sam insisted he go to his lessons and Caleb tried his best to be a strong, big boy to make Sam happy. It seemed like Sam wasn't happy very often and that made Caleb sad in turn. He could make his friend laugh though, so Caleb tried to do that whenever he could. It was much harder with Dean, mostly because Caleb didn't talk to him that much. A few days after they'd begun staying with him, Caleb had informed Sam that Dean was a little scary and all the kids in the camp agreed but Sam had assured him that he was a very good person so Caleb felt reassured by it. Living with Sam and Dean meant he was almost instantly accepted among the other children, since they thought he was cool for being friends with the leader of their camp.

The only thing that made Sam smile most days was his friendship with Caleb. The boy was blossoming now that he was settled in the camp. He was making friends, learning things, _living his life_. Sam realized after a few days that he could learn a lesson or two from the boy himself. Sam started with Morgan; he thought that as one of the younger adult men, Morgan might be easier to approach. Sam was the outsider, he knew that and he didn't want anyone to perceive his relationship with Dean to be some sort of _right_ to respect. And so, he worked hard, learning the ropes from Morgan and eventually fitting in with the day to day routine of the men. They did repair work around the camp, fixed the fences, fed the livestock, and each day two men went out on horseback to ride a mile around the perimeter. Sam enjoyed the rides and volunteered to go whenever possible; there was something about the rhythmic pace of the horses that soothed him, grounded him. He made every effort to smile at Dean, touch his shoulder when he was able, lean into him; he never wanted Dean to doubt his feelings. Sometimes, when he rolled over in the night, wide awake, unable to sleep, he would find himself looking into Dean's bright green gaze. Neither would look away for a while; Sam would smile and close his eyes.

It was difficult to go back to the life he knew and it took Dean awhile to realize he _couldn't_ go back to that life. That wasn't an option anymore. Eventually, his heart stopped dipping painfully whenever Sam crossed his path, instead it slightly kick-started in the way it used to before, when their relationship as brothers gradually transitioned into more. The kicker was, Sam was _trying_ and Dean could tell. But he couldn't open himself up to that, was terrified just by the way he felt whenever Sam was around. If they crossed that line into more, then there would be nothing left of Dean should Sam disappear again. And though it warmed him slightly to see Sam slipping into the daily life of their group, Dean found himself pulling back inward, clinging to that stability that had ruled him for so long. Castiel attempted to make that connection, but Dean brushed him off on most occasions. He didn't _want_ to talk about things; Dean knew he just needed time.

The kids in the camp often referred to Castiel as the _angel_ , but Caleb didn't really get what that meant. He liked Castiel; he was funny and said silly things without meaning to. Or at least, he always seemed really serious when he said those funny things. Even though he'd only been in the camp for two weeks, Caleb felt pretty settled there and it made it even better in moments like these, while he sat at the table doing his math problems and Castiel and Sam made dinner in the kitchen. Castiel didn't eat with them often but Caleb had invited him after their afternoon lesson, in which he'd come back to give some history about the sick ones. Castiel had seemed pretty happy to be invited and Sam had said it was okay, so Caleb figured even if Dean didn't like it, he was outnumbered. Dean was generally okay with most things though.

Leaning toward Sam to talk quietly, Castiel nudged his shoulder, "Are things going well here?" He asked quietly, sliding his knife over the head of lettuce in front of him.

Sighing, Sam washed the dirt off some carrots in a bowl of water on the counter. "You know," he smiled sadly at Castiel, "we're okay. Dean's getting used to having us here I think w22; although sometimes, I think he'd rather be alone." Sam put the carrots down on the counter and patted them dry with a dish towel. "Do you think he's okay?" He turned to face the angel, leaning his hip against the counter; quickly glancing over to make sure Caleb was still doing his homework.

Castiel lifted his shoulders in a soft shrug, "In all the years I have known your brother I have never learned to properly read his emotions. I feel he is sometimes happier than I have seen him in a long time," he turned, looking up at Sam with a sigh, "other times he seems to be sadder. But I can only assume he enjoys your company here, as there is nowhere else for you to stay and he hasn't complained about it."

Sam nodded and moved over to cut up the chicken they'd been brought earlier. Some of the women around camp had set up a schedule, a way to rotate what foods were cooked so that everyone had their share without their resources being drained. Caleb had been excited about the chicken all day after having asked Sam first thing in the morning what supper would be. It made Sam grin to listen to how excited Caleb got about eating, reminded him of when he was younger. "Maybe Caleb and I should... ask him about building us a cabin."

"It was suggested by Morgan," Castiel looked up at Sam as if he were surprised that Sam didn't know. "Dean said no."

"Oh." Sam smiled and turned back to finish cutting up the chicken. Maybe Dean really did enjoy having them there even if he didn't always seem to know how to _be_ with them. Laughing softly, he took Castiel by the shoulder. "Gotta be thankful for the small things right?" He pulled Cas into his arms for a hug, laughing harder at the stiffness of the angel's back.

Castiel patted Sam awkwardly on the back and mumbled a soft, "I suppose so."

This was the first thing Dean saw when he tugged open the door of the cabin. His eyebrows lifted slightly and he stood awkwardly for a moment just inside the threshold before coughing and turning to close the door.

"Hey Dean!" Caleb called cheerfully and held up his paper. "I'm learning how to multiply."

As Castiel took a step back from Sam, Dean tracking their movements, he crossed to the table to look down at the paper. All the simple equations on the page were right and he smiled softly, "Good job Caleb, you're gonna be smarter then everyone in no time." He ruffled Caleb's hair before crossing to his dresser to tug off his coat.

Sam walked across to the table to sit down for a few moments. "Dean... did you have a good day?" His voice was soft, eyes focused on the homework in front of Caleb. "We invited Castiel for dinner... its chicken..."

Turning slightly, Dean nodded, and then realized that his brother couldn't see him. "I uh... yeah, that's good," he glanced at Castiel for a moment before walking to the kitchen to get some whiskey. "Cas," he nodded in greeting.

Castiel turned slightly toward him and his lips quirked up in his version of a smile. "Dean."

"I invited him," Caleb said cheerfully and scribbled his pencil along the side of the paper. "Today we learned more about the sick ones, the Croatoans. Did you know Castiel used to live in _heaven_?" Caleb breathed in a sort of awed way.

Dean choked on the sip of whiskey and coughed a few minutes, nodding. "Y-yeah. I did."

Picking up one of Caleb's pencils Sam tapped it on the table in front of him. "Heavenly body..." he muttered, amused himself and started chuckling quietly.

Caleb was still looking curiously at Sam when Dean returned to the table with a glass of whiskey, and the bottle to be safe, and an apple juice for Caleb. This successfully distracted the boy since he hadn't been given the treat since the day they arrived. "Seems like a special occasion," Dean shrugged and settled back on his chair.

Castiel carried the salad bowl over and took the seat beside Dean. "Special occasion?"

Quirking an eyebrow and shrugging, Dean swirled the liquid in his glass.

"Well," Sam grinned, "it's not every night we have an angel to dinner, right Caleb my man?!" He leaned over further and held up his hand for a hi-five.

Caleb slapped happily at the extended hand and beamed, "Right!" He extended his grin to Castiel before pushing his homework to the side. "I'm gonna tell everyone at lessons tomorrow that you came for dinner. Michael said you don't eat food."

Dean snorted and slapped a hand on Castiel's shoulder, "Sounds like you have your own personal fan club Cas."

"That will not do," Castiel shook his head but said nothing more on the subject.

"Aww, c'mon Cas, it can't hurt to be a role model for some kids. Hell, you're a better role model than us." His smile faded a little and he pushed up from the table to move back over to the counter. "Caleb, clean your stuff off the table and I'll bring the food over." Turning his back to everyone he pressed his knuckles on the counter for a few moments.

Dean watched the tense line of his brother's back for a few minutes as Caleb scurried out of his chair to put his homework on top of his dresser. For a moment he considered getting up to talk to Sam but he wouldn't have known what to say even if Sam hadn't turned around.

"Okay?" Castiel asked quietly, leaning in to him slightly closer then he should be.

Dean curled his fingers around his chair and shifted away, "Damn it Cas, how many times must we cover personal space?" He forced a chuckle and watched Caleb as the boy once more settled into his chair.

"I can't wait for chicken!" Caleb said excitedly, snatching at his fork.

Caleb's excitement brought a smile back onto Sam's face. He blew out a breath and tossed the chopped up chicken on top of the salad, picked up the bowl and walked it over to the table. "Cas, can you grab some plates and glasses? That is, if we can pry Dean's fingers off the bottle long enough for us to have a drink?" He smiled at his brother and slid the bowl onto the table.

"Nice Sam," Dean grunted and filled his glass before sliding it to the middle of the table.

A few moments later they were all settled with plates and glasses, dishing up food for each person. Caleb chatted on for awhile about the things Castiel had taught them that day until Sam shushed him in order to eat.

"I believe I have found a way to kill Lucifer," Castiel said out of the blue after a small sip of whiskey.

Dean choked on his chicken and covered his mouth, turning to look briefly at Sam before fixing his eyes on Castiel. "What? How did you do that?"

"It... was a matter of circumstance," Castiel shrugged and lifted his eyes to Sam. "It seems quite simple now that I think about it."

"Circumstance? _Jesus_ Cas, just blurt it out why don't ya." Sam shook his head and sat back hard on his chair. "So... spill it." He glanced at Dean for a moment, then at Caleb who - for the moment - seemed intent on picking the hunks of chicken out of his salad. "Caleb, don't _just_ eat the chicken, one mouthful of meat, then one of salad okay?"

"We've had the weapon all along," Castiel glanced between them. "The colt or the knife."

Dean shook his head, "It can't be that easy."

"Well, not quite," Castiel sighed and glanced uneasily at Dean. "I have spent quite some time studying a few documents in Enochian. It has not been easy. But I have learned that those weapons will kill him, but only when he is in his true vessel."

The words washed over Dean's shoulders and he instantly tensed, darting a look at Sam before fixing his gaze on Castiel. "No."

Sam reached out and curled his fingers over Dean's wrist, frowning slightly, then looked back at Castiel. "Are you _absolutely_ certain he'd be gone?" His fingers tightened unconsciously on Dean's arm.

"Yes," Castiel nodded and looked between the two slowly.

"You can't seriouslyw22;" Dean snapped but cut off quickly when Caleb's attention was drawn from his food finally and he looked up, nostrils flaring. "No. Just... _no_ ," he shook his head and clenched his fists.

Caleb turned curious eyes to Sam, "What's the matter?"

"Well," Sam took a deep breath, "there might be a way to stop people from getting sick, Caleb. The thing is, you know me and Dean; we can't talk about anything without fightin'. S'nothing to worry about Caleb." His fingers slid off Dean's arm and he smiled warmly at the boy before picking the chicken off his own salad to put on Caleb's.

Caleb considered them with a slight smile and turned back to his food, continuing to munch happily.

Dean was quite settled on the idea of not discussing this any further and he resumed stabbing his fork into his food, shooting Castiel a glare when the angel opened his mouth to speak.

Sam leaned back into the table, closer to Castiel, head slightly tilted toward the angel. "So…I say yes," he kept his voice soft and even, "and then you would use the ... weapon," he gestured vaguely with his hand, "and it would all be over?" His eyes were wide and fixed on the angel's ice blue gaze.

"Well, Lucifer would no longer be a threat," Castiel nodded, voice quiet in return.

Lifting his eyes to stare at them, Dean's shoulders once more tensed and his lips thinned out in an aggravated line. "Except there is no way to know exactly where he is or if he's even around. Maybe he _left_ for a reason. Maybe he's already gone."

"Unlikely," Castiel shook his head. "I believe I would feel the shift. Things are still not right."

"Could you find him Cas?" Sam's gaze hadn't wavered. Here was a chance to make things better. "What if ... he has to come here to take me again? You could be ready to... There must be a way to get to him - talk to him," he finally looked away, eyes darting from Caleb to Dean. "We can't dismiss this without seriously considering what it would mean for _everyone_." The muscles in Sam's neck were taut as he tried to keep his voice steady.

Blowing out a harsh breath, Dean slammed his fist down onto the table, causing them all to jump slightly. "Damn it Sam! You're just so eager to _go_ aren't you?!" he stared wide eyed at his brother, heart clenching.

Castiel peered up at Dean and shook his head, "The boy..."

Eyes shooting to Caleb, then Castiel, Dean growled and turned away. In five quick steps he had the back door open, slamming it shut behind him.

"Sam?" Caleb whispered nervously, fork still halfway raised to his mouth.

Sam forced a smile, "S'okay Caleb, he's mad at me - no one else. _Not you_ okay?" Sam raised his eyebrows and ducked his head down to look at Caleb.

Caleb watched Sam for a minute longer before nodding and going back to his food. "Is he gonna be mad at you long? Are you gonna apologize?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna apologize." Sam pushed up from the table, "You guys visit - I'll be back." Grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair, Sam pulled the cabin door open and stepped outside. Casting his eyes around the dark courtyard, he could make out the vague shape of his brother over by the fruit trees. Ever since they were little kids, Dean would go outside when things got to be too much for him. It was as though he needed the air and the extra space to convince himself that things would work out.

The ground was damp and Sam could smell the fires from the cabins, it had already reached the time of year when it cooled down enough in the evening to need some heat. He stopped a few feet away from Dean and jammed his hands in his pockets. "Hey..." He took a step closer and lowered his eyes, "I'm sorry - it wasn't the right time or place for that conversation."

"As far as I'm concerned we're not _having_ that conversation," Dean grumbled and snatched an apple from the tree, biting into it roughly. He wasn't hungry and the apple wasn't ripe. Dean winced and turned, throwing the fruit hard in the opposite direction of the cabins.

"Okay." Sam shuffled his feet, nervous, upset and as usual, confused. "You... want me to leave you alone?" Sam pulled a hand out and gestured back toward the cabin.

Dean's eyes skid along the cabins, listening quietly for anyone who may have been out and about. No one should be; it was past curfew with the sun down. Just the men who were on guard for the night and they would be sweeping the perimeter. "Sam..." he exhaled slowly and stepped toward his brother. When Sam didn't move back he took another step forward and curled his fingers into Sam's shirt. "You can't seriously be considering this."

Flinching slightly Sam blinked rapidly a few times then sighed. "Dean, I just..." _fuck_ why did it always come back to this? "If it could change things, if Castiel is right it would mean w22; Caleb, what about Caleb? What if he could grow up in a world where there was nothing to be terrified of? I could do that... we could..."

Fingers tightening in Sam's shirt; Dean tugged him forward sharply and crushed their lips together. Air fell from his lungs, out his nose in a sharp puff as he slanted his lips over Sam's, stepping in to press their bodies together and savor the taste of mostly familiar lips with his tongue. He moaned softly, and slid a hand up to curl along the back of Sam's neck, dragging him in to deepen the kiss.

For a few moments Sam's hands were clenched at his sides, then his body reacted almost violently, it was so fast - his heart was hammering, blood racing and suddenly his arms were moving to slip around Dean's hips. His lips were tingling from the touch and his knees buckled as Dean's tongue slipped into his mouth. He shuddered, not from the cold - from the fear that this would be taken away from him as quickly as it appeared. Fingers slipping through Dean's belt loops Sam tightened his hold, lips moving slowly against his brothers, wet and warm in the darkness.

It was earth shattering, the way Sam's kissed rocked through him so steadily. It was familiar and foreign, and had Dean's heart hammering faster than it had in years. He moaned a little louder and pulled Sam into him, heat coursing through his veins until his entire body felt dizzy from the pleasure. "Sam," he murmured into the kiss, sliding his hand up through his brother's softly curling hair, "Tell me you won't," he insisted, hips rocking forward of their own violation. "Promise me."

Heat swirled through Sam's body, his hips slid forward into Dean's and he groaned softly as his hands slid down into the pockets of his brother's jeans. It was a few moments before Dean's words managed to sink into his brain and even then, he simply moaned and deepened the kiss. His mouth opened wide, lips sliding wet and slick across Dean's. Almost frantic, he pulled Dean closer, stumbling.

Dean's hand dropped to the hem of Sam's shirt, shoving up roughly under the fabric, fingers splaying wide across his brother's chest. _Fuck_ he'd forgotten just how light-headed kissing Sam could make him. His whole body felt alive, thrumming swiftly and steadily. Hips rocking forward again, he could feel the hard line of Sam's arousal and thought for a minute how wonderful it would be, to steal off to some private place and take his brother in the way he'd never stopped dreaming about. "Sam," he gasped and pulled back, panting heavily, eyes lust blown. "Promise me," he whispered; voice urgent. This couldn't continue until he had that reassurance, only then could he let himself feel _that_ type of release once more.

"Dean..." Sam's hands moved up his brother's back, trying to pull him back, _closer_. "Please... don't do this..." He leaned forward sucking Dean's bottom lip into his mouth, fingers tightening in the material of Dean's jacket.

It wasn't as if Sam was saying flat out that he couldn't promise but he might as well have been. A sharp sob caught in Dean's throat and he pushed back roughly, tears instantly pricking along his eyes. "You can't," Dean's eyes were wide as his fist clenched at his side, lips swollen from the intensity of their kisses. " _Jesus_ ," he gasped in pain, stumbling back a few more steps. "You'd... you'd just let this happen... and then _leave me_ , again. For good? Why the fuck would I care if Lucifer was gone for good if it meant you being gone too?" Tears burned down his cheeks and Dean shook his head roughly, trying to fight back the swell of hurt consuming him. "Go. Just... go." He turned from Sam, pulling in a deep and shaky breath.

Sam stood there, staring at his brother's back and reeling from the heat he still felt on his lips and the rejection he felt in his heart. He cleared his throat and stood there, shaking; thinking how ridiculous it was that time and time again he tried to reach Dean. He had nothing left inside to give, nothing he could do to make Dean trust him, except the one thing he _couldn't_ do. Just a simple word to save the whole world, or what was left of it; Sam meant nothing compared to that. "I... I can't... keep doing this, Dean." His hands were fisted at his sides. "I won't," He turned slowly, "don't ever touch me like that again." The distance back to the cabin felt like the longest walk he'd ever taken.

Dean collapsed to his knees on the ground, folding in on himself as a harsh sob caught in his throat. He stifled it as best he could, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He couldn't understand why Sam wanted to leave him again. Why was saving everyone else so much more important than being with him? Dean had always known he would never be enough for one person but _fuck_ , it hurt to have that become solid knowledge. It was so much easier before, when he could blame it on his brother simply losing his way, on a series of bad decisions that led to Sam making the ultimate horrible one. Now though, Sam would _rather_ sacrifice himself than stay with Dean. He knew that if Lucifer were to suddenly appear, Sam wouldn't even second-guess it and Dean would really, truly be alone. He only hoped that Lucifer might just end the world along with himself because it didn't seem likely that he'd be able to go on and try to pick up the pieces of himself another time around.

Stumbling up to the front door of the cabin, Sam took a few moments to try and get himself together before he pushed the door open. "Hey guys," he moved inside quickly and walked straight over to the counter, pouring himself some water from the bottle there. "Cas…we need to stay with you tonight. Like a sleepover with the angel, Caleb?" His hands were shaking so badly he spilled water on his shirt.

"Sleepover?" Caleb perked up, looking excitedly at Sam then back to Castiel. "That sounds like fun.

Castiel looked in concern at Sam, trying to read the tension on his shoulders. After a few moments he turned back to Caleb and sighed, "Well... I share with a few others. I don't think there will be room for you both. But I'm sure we can work out something."

"Don't bother," Dean snapped as he pushed the door open. "I'm not staying here tonight." He kept his eyes fixed ahead as he crossed the room to his bed, yanking up his bag and pulling open his dresser.

Caleb squeaked slightly and slid out of the chair to go stand by Castiel, frowning in concern as he looked around the men.

Sam pushed off the counter and spun around striding over toward Dean and shoving him to the side. "Don't be an asshole," he said through gritted teeth, leaning in, he lowered his voice, "just calm the _fuck_ down." He slammed the dresser drawer shut and pressed his hands flat on the top of it.

"There isn't room for you in Castiel's cabin," Dean said, voice flat and even. "So if you have an issue being here then I will just go," he turned slightly to peer up at his brother. His eyes once more burned with tears and he gasped softly as he locked on the anger and irritation in his brother's eyes. Dean's heart clenched and he turned away before his brother could see the tears flaring down his cheeks. "Move Sam."

"Why don't we go see if there are any stars out?" Castiel suggested to Caleb, loud enough for both Sam and Dean to hear. "Give those two a little more time to talk about things."

Caleb took Castiel's hand and followed him, looking over his shoulder and frowning, "Why are they so mad at each other Cas?"

Whatever Castiel said as an answer Dean didn't hear since the door closed in the next moment. "You can't _force_ me to stay here Sam so _move_."

Sam's arm whipped across the top of the dresser, sweeping everything onto the floor. "Stop it!" he screamed. "I can't take this anymore, I..." he heaved in a breath and blew it out as he fought the tears that were welling in his eyes. Sinking down onto the bed he let his head drop, "Dean please..." When the tears came there was nothing Sam could do about it. Biting down on his lip so hard he could taste blood, he grabbed the quilt. "How can I not..." he gasped in a breath, "I'm not worth all these p-people." He looked up at his brother, "I d-don't know what to do to... make this right." Sobbing, he reached out for Dean's hand.

"It sounds like you've made up your mind," Dean said softly and pulled open his drawers once more, gathering clothes for the night and the next day. "You'll do what you think is best I suppose," Dean could feel his heart shattering, all those carefully built walls crumbling and letting all the previous pain and heartache consume him. "I'll never be enough to stop you. I never was," he whispered and watched his tears drop onto the dresser before turning to stuff the clothes in his duffel bag. "I need a night to cool down. When I come back tomorrow I... it'll be done. Then we can start on your guy's cabin if you want," he shoved his hand against his cheeks roughly and crossed the cabin to the door, stopping long enough to say softly, "and don't worry. I won't ever touch you like that again."

After the door clicked shut it was a few moments before Sam could even breathe and then he hunched forward, hand pressed against his chest as though he could push the hurt out, get rid of it somehow. Wiping at his face with his sleeves, he just kept trying to breathe in and out, when all he really wanted to do was die. Dean was _so_ wrong. Dean was the _only_ thing that was enough... the only thing that had _ever_ been enough. If that was gone... Sam was still sobbing quietly when the door opened.

"Sam?" Caleb said softly and walked quickly across the room, dropping by him on the bed. "What's the matter? Dean said that you needed me right now. Why are you crying?" Caleb frowned and leaned heavily against Sam's side.

Nodding silently, Sam reached out and pulled Caleb into his arms, burying his face in the little boy's hair. "I just ...got hurt" he blew out a shaky breath, "that's all... I'm okay." Sam was so far from _okay_ he couldn't even think clearly. "Just needed a hug..."

"Okay," Caleb nodded and shuffled around until he could wrap his tiny arms just around Sam's. "Don't worry. It'll get better, it always does, Miss. Jacobs said so," Caleb reassured Sam and laid his head on Sam's chest.

-=-=-=-

Castiel fell into step with Dean as they crossed the camp to his cabin. "Dean?" He asked quietly after a few steps. "Are you alright?"

"No," Dean grunted and sucked in a breath to bite back tears.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Castiel asked quietly and extended his hand to rest on Dean's shoulders.

Shrugging off the touch, Dean shook his head and muttered, "No," before they approached Castiel's cabin and headed inside. The other men looked surprised to see him, but no one asked any questions. Thankfully, they left him alone until he'd finished more than half a bottle of whiskey and passed out on the spare bed.


	6. Chapter 6

The only reason Dean returned to the cabin the following morning was his lack of anything else to do. The men had left to their appointed tasks and Castiel was giving him sad eyes that only mounted the irritation growing within him. So he walked silently into the cabin, eyes flickering over Sam and Caleb at the table before he carried his bag to his bed and dropped it there. It was safe to say he'd basically cried himself out the day before and now he was emotionally nested in between those familiar walls that had been around his heart for so long. After a few moments, he emptied out the clothes before walking to the table with a stack of maps and dropping down.

Caleb's eyes slid to Sam for a moment before he pushed off his chair and padded quietly to the kitchen. He was still pretty confused but it comforted him to have Dean back so he snatched a bottle of water, an apple and a protein bar before carrying them back to Dean and setting them in front of him. When Dean looked at him he smiled tentatively and stepped closer. "You always make me eat my breakfast."

"Yeah," Dean nodded and pursed his lips for a moment before laying his hand on Caleb's shoulder and squeezing softly. "Thanks, kiddo."

Face brightening, Caleb nodded and headed back to his chair as Dean's hand dropped. He flashed a grin at Sam before settling back into his own breakfast.

Sam smiled at Caleb and took another bite of his apple. He chewed for a while, thinking. "Me and Caleb talked last night, Dean."

Dean curled his fingers around the water bottle and half glanced up at his brother before looking back down. "Oh yeah, what about?" If there was one thing Dean Winchester knew how to do, it was fake it. He told himself he was strong enough to pretend like he wasn't memorizing every little movement his brother made as if it were the last one he'd ever see.

"If it's okay with you..." Sam looked at Caleb until the little boy nodded, "we'd like to stay here." He cleared his throat. "We're a family, ya know? No matter what." He pressed his lips together and looked down, fiddling with his glass of water.

"Please? I promise to eat my salad too and not just the chicken," Caleb added for good measure, sliding forward in his seat slightly.

Dean willed down the too familiar clench of his heart and nodded. "Fine by me," he murmured and drained half his water bottle in one long pull.

"Okay," Sam's voice was a little rough. He turned back to Caleb and smiled. "You should go to your lessons Caleb. Everything's okay now." Sam knew that Caleb didn't really understand what was going on, but he was a bright kid. He knew that Sam and Dean were upset, angry, hell w22; Caleb was probably more aware than they gave him credit for. Fortunately, he also trusted Sam.

Caleb nodded and slid off his chair once more, pleased that things were working themselves out. "Okay. Can we play a game tonight? I liked that one with the tiles that you had to remember," he babbled on about the game as he gathered his schoolwork, "Memory! Oh boy, I forgot the title and it was _easy_. I think I might be losing it," he put his hand to his head and sighed dramatically in the way his teacher did when she said the same thing.

Dean was a little surprised by the burst of laughter that fell from him. "Caleb, you're hilarious," he chuckled and reached out for his protein bar.

With a bright grin Caleb slid forward and gave Dean a quick hug before rounding the table to give one to Sam. "See you after school? Will you come walk me back?"

"Yup," Sam tousled Caleb's hair, "I'll be there when you're done - now get." He grinned.

Caleb called a brief, "Bye," over his shoulder as he headed out the door, tugging it shut behind him.

Dean's stomach churned the protein bar unpleasantly and he tugged one of the maps closer with the pretense of overlooking it.

"Thanks," Sam said as he lifted his glass to his lips. He swallowed a few gulps of water, wiped his mouth and put the glass back on the table gently.

Dean shrugged and hunched forward over the map. "I never wanted you to leave," he muttered quietly and balled the wrapper from the bar into his fist.

"I know, and… I'm sorry." Sam scratched the back of his head then dropped his hands to the table. "I was just... scared," he shrugged, "I don't know how to do this." He looked up at Dean, watching his brother's eyes staring blankly at the map in front of him. "But…I don't want to be away from you. So... brothers it is." Taking a deep breath he pushed up from the table, picked up his glass and moved past Dean to wash up. He stopped briefly, hesitating; then quickly squeezed Dean's shoulder before he walked over to the counter.

"That will never be enough," Dean whispered down into the map before sliding back from the table. "I'm gonna go do a sweep. I'll see you later," he curled his fingers around the apple and the half-full water bottle before heading for the door. _Too soon_. He shouldn't have come back to the cabin yet.

"Hey, Dean?" Sam watched his brother freeze with his hand on the doorknob. "The thing I said, about not touching me. I know you don't want that... but if you ever did..." Sam scrubbed a hand over his face, "I didn't mean it." He turned back to the counter.

Dean's shoulders tensed slightly and he frowned at the doorknob, not looking back at his brother. Dean thought of the options laid out before him and sighed softly. After a moment, he turned and walked back to his brother, spinning him with a hand on his arm. His eyes flickered across his features for an instant, before he stepped in and wrapped his arms around him in a gentle hug, ready to pull back at the slightest tension from Sam.

Sam buried his face in Dean's neck and held on tight. His fingers curled into the material of his brother's jacket and he sighed. "Thank you," he murmured, heart aching just a little bit less.

There wasn’t an adequate response to that, so Dean simply sighed once more and tightened his hold on Sam. On the scale of hugs, Dean would place it somewhere just shy of brothers, just shy of lovers. Maybe he needed new classifications for hugs. ‘Post-apocalypse’ category or something. Pulling back a little, Dean studied Sam's face for a moment before leaning in and brushing their lips together in a whisper of a kiss. Then he stepped back and turned, "Thought we should start planning for another raid; if you want to look at the maps I've put an X on the cities that we've hit or know are swarming with Croates."

The moment passed and Sam had lived, and things might be okay; just like Caleb had said the night before. "I'll look at it before I go help Morgan." Sam rinsed the glasses quickly and set them up to dry on the counter. Moving slowly back to the table he pushed the map slightly with his fingers then sat down. Things would be okay, just like Caleb said.

Dean watched him for a moment, considered staying, but his mind was still reeling too much and he needed to clear it out. _Without_ a bottle of whiskey. "Jot down any suggestions. I'm gonna… you know..." he gestured to the door. "See ya," he shrugged and this time headed out the door before Sam could stop him.

-=-=-=-

As things began to settle back to normalcy in their cabin, Sam turned his attention to making the place a little more like a home. At first, he was a bit sneaky about it because he didn't want Dean to fuss. He had Caleb gather any small pieces of scrap metal he could find from around the camp and they spent an evening making a rather bizarre looking set of wind chimes. What it lacked in beauty it more than made up for when they heard the wind blow through it the first time. It was soothing, the heavy metal clanking, and the slight ting of the smaller pieces. Even Dean came outside to see what Sam and Caleb were staring at so intently. Dean didn't complain nor did the wind chimes disappear so Sam came up with other projects. By the end of the week the cabin had a dream catcher above Caleb's bed, one full wall of leaf print art done by Caleb _and_ Sam, and a log chair by the front door they'd made for Dean. He didn't say much about the chair, but soon, he was using it every night. The first time Dean fell asleep in _his_ chair, Caleb came scurrying over to Sam and tugged on his arm, pointing and giggling.

Whatever this thing between them all was, an odd family dynamic or something unnamable, it succeeded in warming Dean's heart more than he could have anticipated. After the big melt down fight with Sam, he had slammed those walls up so hard he thought they were impenetrable. But in less than a few days they had already dwindled down and Dean didn't even have to force the smile on his face when he came home to find Sam and Caleb working on his homework or playing a game. Nothing more as far as touches or kisses passed between Sam and himself, outside the small brush of a hand against an arm or shoulders bumping as they walked, but Dean knew it was for the best. There was still that unspoken thing, the Lucifer problem, lying out there and even if Castiel was wise enough to not bring it up again; Dean never forgot. Until that time came when it had to be addressed, Dean was content to ignore it, and soak in the slow changes to his life. Caleb made it nearly impossible to get lost in dark thoughts and any time Dean felt like he was drifting away with a bitter type of loneliness, the boy seemed hyper aware and always pulled him and Sam together to play a familiar game or read a book from his growing collection.

Preparations for another raid were well underway by the time Sam built a second chair for the cabin. The second chair was smaller, sized almost perfectly for Caleb. It had started by Caleb's bed and ended up, somehow, (although no one would admit to moving it) right beside Dean's. The raid was scheduled for the following week; Sam had put a lot of effort into the planning w22;getting approval from Dean at every step. He spent more time with Morgan; they even got drunk one night which was quite amusing. Morgan was about a foot shorter than Sam and how he ever managed to get him back to his cabin without killing one of them became the subject of speculation for quite a while. Sam's nerves started to fray a little as the time of the raid drew closer, he wasn't sure why. Sam had been hunting for years and the raids shouldn't have been any different. Maybe it was the fear of coming face to face with more survivors and the guilt it added to Sam's already heavy conscience. Maybe it was the worry that if something happened to him and Dean, Caleb would be alone. He didn't want to leave him alone, not twice in one lifetime.

On the morning of the raid Caleb is less than pleased. He not only has to stay with the kids for the two days that they'll be gone, but both Sam and Dean were leaving and as much as Caleb liked the other kids, he didn't want to be all alone. Dean spent awhile reassuring him that they'd be back in only one sleep; that the city they were going to was only a few hours away. In the end he attempted to pacify him with an apple juice. Sam was the one to gather him in his arms and hold him close while Caleb pretended not to cry and watched with sad eyes as they finished loading everything up. They had decided on a smaller raid because it was getting colder and it was too risky to drive too far in bad weather. A good majority of the men were staying behind just in case; Dean tried his best to give some version of an encouraging speech before slipping behind the steering wheel and starting up the truck.

It was strange to be out in the _real_ world again. Sam's heart wasn't in the raid; he felt guilty about leaving Caleb behind even though he knew that he would be safe. But, the alternative was to watch Dean leave on a raid and… Sam couldn't have done that. He'd made up his mind that he'd never watch Dean leave again. There had been more than enough leaving for their lifetimes. It was no easier the second time around. Sure, Sam knew what to expect on the second raid, but it didn't change the fact that it was brutally hard to see the destruction, yet again. Sam was starting to understand why Dean had become so hard. There were some things that he could only take so much of.

They found no one. It didn't surprise Sam w22; Dean had warned him it was likely. Caleb had been the first person they'd found alive in a long time, and until they could venture further afield there wasn't much hope that they'd discover more survivors. They did manage to find most of the supplies they needed and Sam had found a chocolate bar that he quickly stuffed in his pocket; it might be old, maybe a little hard but he was certain Caleb would love it.

When they stopped for the night, Dean didn't even ask if Sam wanted to share a tent. He knew his brother was suffering almost constantly from guilt and seeing the worst of the world brought up that feeling triple time. So when everyone was heading off to their various places for sleep, Dean simply followed Sam into the tent. He held his brother close, enjoying the fact that Sam hadn't protested it at all. Dean couldn't resist brushing their lips together for a few gentle kisses and he fell asleep later considering how none of those touches came with the usually accompanied ache. Not for the first time, Dean considered that there really might be more for him and Sam than just being brothers. The next day Sam drove them back to the camp but the tension didn't roll off his shoulders until they pulled up into the familiar clearing safe and sound.

"Home sweet home," Dean murmured as he shifted the truck into park. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw the tense line to Castiel's shoulders. He eyed Sam in the rear view mirror, pushing up from the seat where he'd been sprawled, before turning to the angel. "Cas? What is it?"

Castiel's eyes swept along the camp slowly, as though he were trying to peer inside the cabins through their walls, "He is here."

The words wouldn't have made sense to Dean if Castiel hadn't accompanied them with the pull of the Colt from inside his bag. Dean hadn't even known Castiel carried the weapon on him and his stomach churned unpleasantly. "What? Here? But... how?" Dean's eyes shot around the camp as if Lucifer would come waltzing out of the trees with fucking horns and a tail. His heart flared painfully and he turned to Sam once more.

Sam's blood ran cold, "Caleb," he whispered and broke out into a dead run toward their cabin.

Dean took off after Sam and he could feel Castiel behind him. His mind was reeling with the suggestion that Lucifer could possibly be in _Caleb_. He wished he could tell himself that Lucifer wouldn't be so cruel as to take on Caleb as a vessel but if his plan was to get to Sam, that was the person to invade. He stumbled into the cabin moments after Sam, looking around with wide eyes.

Frozen to the core, unable to do anything more than shudder, Sam was standing in the middle of the cabin staring at Caleb where he sat on the edge of his bed. The moment he'd burst into the cabin, Sam had known it was all wrong: intuition, fear, a charged feeling in the air or simply the way Caleb sat with his arms resting across his thighs and his face turned toward the door. _It was all wrong_. "Dean..." Sam's words were almost a plea, almost an order - lost somewhere in the place of not knowing.

Sliding forward, Dean was instantly at Sam's side, then stepping in front of him slightly. The sense of foreboding was flaring through him and he watched Castiel slide up to Sam's other side from the corner of his eye. "Let him go," he whispered; voice cold and harsh as he peered down at Caleb.

Caleb's eyes slipped over the men and settled for a few moments on Castiel. A slight smile crept onto his mouth as he nodded an almost imperceptible greeting. In one fluid motion Caleb stood, squared his narrow shoulders and faced the men. "Sam, I've missed you." His eyes moved down the length of Sam's long frame then settled on his face again. "Taking care of our body I assume?"

It felt as though with every beat, Sam's heart drew up closer to his throat, choking off his air. Without even being aware he was moving, he stepped in front of his brother and his friend, arms held out in front of them both. "Lucifer." The name tasted like filth and grease on his tongue, unleashing a flood of buried memories in Sam's mind. "Whw22;What do you want?" His upper lip curled.

"Sam," Dean reached up to grab the back of Sam's shirt, as if the action alone would keep this from happening. He didn't wish this on Caleb, not in the slightest, but if Sam were to... Dean couldn't fathom that idea. His eyes snapped to Castiel, who was pushing open the barrel of the colt to ensure the weapon was loaded before pushing it back and cocking it. "Cas, stop." The angel only looked at him with narrowed eyes before turning back.

Throwing his head back Caleb laughed.

It was a horrible sound. Sam's blood felt like sludge in his veins. _Caleb_. He leaned back slightly into his brother's touch.

Caleb moved slowly, deliberately, pacing across the room in front of the three men and stopping in front of Castiel. "Don't be naive brother. We both know that _hope_ and _willpower_ aren't going to change the fact that the infamous Colt isn't going to do a thing but kill..." he gestured to his body, "this meat suit."

Sam groaned softly, legs shaking with the strain of standing still – doing _nothing_. "Cas... no..." he murmured, reaching blindly to the side, he grabbed onto the collar of Castiel's jacket, "please, not Caleb."

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy," Caleb paced back all wrong, his little boy legs taking adult sized steps in a horrific display of the absurdity of it all. "We all know why I'm here Sam. Can we just cut through the pleasantries and get to it?" Caleb sat back down on the edge of the bed and tilted his head.

"Don't worry Sam, I will not harm the boy," Castiel said quietly and Dean could hear the unspoken addition. He would wait until Lucifer was in Sam once more because it was the only way to truly get rid of Lucifer.

Dean's heart sank and he stepped forward, curling his hand around Sam's arm. "No. No Sam this... _no_ ," he pleaded quietly, eyes shooting back and forth between Caleb and Sam.

Sam's fingers slid over Dean's, twining them together easily. His shoulders sagged slightly. Why did it have to be Caleb? "You don't want Caleb," he tried, he had to try. He had to try because his brother was standing right at his shoulder, gripping his arm so hard it hurt. "Let the boy go, leave us alone," he took a shuddering breath in, fingers sliding tighter with Dean's. "You... you don't need us."

Heart lurching at the suggestion, Dean stepped even closer into Sam's warmth. Hearing Sam try gave him hope, and he was willing to cling that for as long as he could. "You've already let Sam go so leave us _alone_ ," he leaned into Sam's body, trying to be a reassuring presence, trying to tell him silently that the last thing in the world he wanted was Sam to go away.

"Oh, but therein lies the problem, Dean." Caleb's eyes dragged down Sam's arm to where his fingers were locked with his brother's. "I never did let him go. Call it... joint custody. Visitation. A... deal." Caleb's lips twisted into a sinister smile.

Sam's eyes closed slowly. Lucifer had never meant to let him stay. Sighing, he squeezed Dean's fingers once more and let his hand fall back to his side as something clinched tight and hard in his chest. "You don't want Caleb," His eyes opened, "you've come back for me." The words hung there for a few moments, tangible and heavy in the room. It was as though everyone was poised to do _something_... but no one knew quite how to begin. "You'll let Caleb go?"

Caleb nodded slowly, his smile growing.

"N-no," Dean choked on the words, reaching for Sam again, pulling him back. "You can't Sam. Don't do this."

Castiel slid to his side and curled tight fingers around his arm, "This isn't your choice to make Dean."

Dean shoved back against Castiel and lurched for his brother once more, "Please Sam. We'll figure out another way. Please."

A single tear crawled slowly down Sam's cheek as he stood there just out of Dean's reach. "You'll let Caleb go," his voice was thick, "you'll leave my brother alone, my friends, all these people." His arms felt so heavy, made of lead at his side. "You say you promise me that..." his voice broke and he dragged a hand down his face, "and I'll say yes again." He stared into Caleb's glistening eyes.

" _Sam_ ," Dean sucked in a sharp breath and struggled against Castiel's grip as it came around him. "Please. Please don't do this to me again. Don't leave me again," he blinked against the tears burning in his eyes and spilling down his cheeks.

Sam turned slowly to face the two men behind him. He drew his bottom lip into his mouth, closing his eyes for a few moments before he dared to look at Cas. In a flash his hand curled around the angel's neck and he leaned in to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I trust you, Cas. You do this." He stifled a small sound and pressed his forehead to the angel’s temple for a moment.

When Sam finally looked at his brother's face, the pain in Dean's eyes forced a strangled sob from Sam's mouth. "Dean?" His fingers reached out and brushed his brother's. "I _never_ for a _single_ moment stopped loving you." He squeezed his eyes shut for a painful few moments and took a deep breath. "You make this right... Caleb..." Sam swallowed hard and pressed his hand to his aching chest before he was able to continue. "I’ m sorry..." What could he say that Dean didn't already know? Sam was leaving again...just like Dean had suspected he would. Leaving Dean, Caleb, Castiel w22; giving Lucifer his perfect vessel. Right here, this had always been Sam's greatest weakness. _Dean_. If Dean was alive, had a chance, then Sam's heart could keep beating for a few moments longer.

Dean would have given anything to go back to not even ten minutes before, when they were driving in companionable silence, completely unaware of what was to come. Now though, he broke free from Castiel's hold and threw his arms around Sam. "Please..." he whispered, clinging to Sam desperately, "I promise it'll be better. I... we can be something. We can be together. You don't have to do this. You don't have to go." His knees felt weak and he hung from Sam's body, praying his brother would stop shredding his heart into little bits because he didn't think he could handle any more.

Burying his face in Dean's neck, Sam's body folded forward around Dean's as he cried quietly. His breath hitched and stuttered as he tried to somehow find the strength to turn back around. Moving quickly, he clumsily grabbed his brother's neck and shoulder, dragging him up roughly and crushing their mouths together. It was full of tears and aching, lips sliding wet and warm against each others'. His arms tightened around Dean's neck and shoulders, holding him painfully tight as he gasped into the kiss.

The burn of Sam and his mixed tears sparked along the kiss, and Dean attempted to practically crawl onto Sam's body, thinking if he could just prove to him through the desperate slide of his lips that he would do anything to keep Sam here, that his brother wouldn't leave him. But he could already feel Sam detaching himself and his heart exploded in a little burst of flame. "Sammy," he gasped, hand tightening painfully in Sam's hair. "Don't... please don't. I love you, _please_." Dean didn't have much energy left for this and he didn't know if he could take anymore.

"Dean," Castiel whispered and slid forward, waiting for the moment when Sam would turn back to Lucifer.

Caleb pushed up to stand beside the bed again. "Sam? I promise." He lowered his head, eyes focused on Sam from under his lashes.

"Cas," Sam whispered, eyes darting to the angel for help as he tried to loosen Dean's grip on him. "I love you," he whispered against his brother's ear.

Castiel slid forward and tugged on Dean, pulling him back, "Dean, let go. You have to let him do this. He's made his choice and it is for the best."

With a sharp inhale of pain, Dean reached out for his brother even as Castiel pulled him back. He couldn't fathom the idea of watching this happen, of watching his brother simply let go. Then Castiel would _kill_ him and there wouldn’t be another chance. "Sam," he gasped, struggling against the angel. "I can't... I can't do this without you again," his fingers dug roughly into the arm around his stomach, eyes staring pleadingly at his brother.

Closing his eyes, Sam turned slowly back to face Caleb, _Lucifer_. "Okay, Lucifer... yes." He blinked his eyes open and his consciousness was buried somewhere deep in the recesses of his own mind.

Caleb fell to the ground and started to cry.

Sam's arms stretched up luxuriously above his head. "Oh it's good to be home," he turned and flashed a broad grin over his shoulder at Dean. "Buck up camper the fun's just beginning."

Dean collapsed out of Castiel's grip, curling into a heap over his knees. "Caleb," he breathed and lifted his watery eyes to the boy, opening his arms for him. Caleb lurched up off the floor and stumbled to him, curling into his arms. "Shhh, its okay buddy," he whispered and wrapped his arms around tiny shoulders. "I need you to go to Morgan now Caleb, okay? You go and stay there and I'll come get you as soon as I can okay?"

Biting down on his bottom lip roughly, Caleb nodded and looked up at Sam. "Sam?" He whispered in concern.

"Thanks for the ride kid." Sam paced over to the table and kicked out a chair flopping down into it.

"Go Caleb," Dean urged and pushed Caleb gently. The boy looked scared, eyes red-rimmed with tears, but he listened to Dean and stumbled toward the door, looking over his shoulder at them for a moment before closing the door. Dean couldn't bring himself to look up at Sam, at Lucifer, but his eyes shifted back as Castiel crossed the room and turned the lock on the door. A moment later Castiel had returned and Dean caught the flash of the Colt being lifted. "No," he surged forward, pushing up to his feet and shoving at Castiel's arm.

"Dean," Castiel warned, eyes widening. "It was your brother's last wish."

"Oh come now boys, you might just want to have a seat and listen to me before you do anything to this lovely body." Sam ran his hands over his chest and kicked a chair out opposite him.

Dean kept his eyes on Castiel to ensure he didn't pull up the Colt once more and his arms slid across his chest. "Shut up," he growled to Lucifer, hating hearing these words coming from his brother. "We don't want to hear your bullshit."

"Then what is the point in waiting?" Castiel asked quietly and Dean ignored the flash of unexpected sympathy on his face. "Dean... it must be done."

Sam's lips quirked into a crooked smile, "You... Dean," he shook his head, hair falling forward across his face, "you let your beloved little brother do it twice." He pushed up from the chair and strode around the table. "Wasn't it enough that he sacrificed himself for you once? You had him do it again." He laughed softly as he stepped into Dean's space, lips ghosting across the man's cheek, "So, sad... so much Winchester angst. My, my, my you boys are good at this."

"Don't touch me," Dean snapped and slid back, finally fixing narrowed eyes on Sam. He looked just like his brother, maybe just a tighter version. As if Lucifer could erase all the lines of laughter and sorrow the years had carved into Sam's features. Dean considered Lucifer's words and glanced at Castiel before asking coldly, "What do you mean he sacrificed himself for me once?"

"Don't listen to his lies Dean," Castiel urged, stepping forward and lifting the gun once more. "He's playing to your weaknesses."

"Oh Castiel, do shut up," Sam rolled his eyes before settling them on Dean once more. "Why on _earth_ do you think he said ‘Yes’ to me in the first place? You can't really be that naïve but..." he stepped back for a moment, turning to Castiel and throwing his arms wide open, exposing his chest, "if you really don't want to know..." he took a few quick steps closer to the angel.

Castiel lifted the gun, but Dean reacted quickly, sliding between the Colt and Sam, eyes fixed on Castiel. "No. You will not be the one to do this," he growled and waited until Castiel lowered the gun, before turning back to Sam. "Why did he say ‘Yes’ in the first place? Stop fucking around and tell me before I take the Colt and shoot you myself," Dean didn't think he would be strong enough to pull the trigger; actually, he knew he wouldn't be, but he morphed his features into those of a strong and defiant man.

Sam threw his head back, laughing. When he finally looked at Dean again he raised his eyebrows, "Cocky aren't you?" Folding his arms across his chest Sam licked his lips slowly. "Where should I start? Let's see… _you_ , Dean didn't want your brother anymore did you? Practically cut him out of your life. Gave him everything and took it all away." He drawled the last two words, head moving slowly from side to side. "Oh yeah, the demon blood, and Ruby w22; such jealously, Dean. Was it worth it? Was _your_ anger worth losing Sam to me?" He stepped closer quickly, backing Dean up with his body until he was against the wall. "He came to me, you know, begged me to keep _you_ safe, you selfish idiot." His head whipped towards Castiel as he leaned into Dean’s body, "Humans... fickle."

"Shut up," Dean snapped and slid away from Sam, heart aching at the words. His mind couldn't accept the idea that he had been the reason Sam had said ‘Yes’ in the first place. It was like taking all of the guilt into himself. The idea that he could have stopped Sam before he made such a horrible choice, made his stomach flip and twist uncomfortably. "Y-you don't know. You couldn't possibly understand how humans feel. You're just jealous because we _can_ feel."

"Five years, Dean." Sam drew in a long breath as his nose moved along Dean's cheek and into his hair. "He bought you five years. I agreed to leave you and yours..." he gestured to Castiel, "alone for five years and then your brother and I had a little wager." Dragging his tongue along Dean's jaw Sam moaned softly against Dean's ear. "I agreed to let him come back after five years. I agreed he could stay forever, never bothered again by me if he could do one simple thing." Sam's long fingers settled on Dean's hips digging _hard_ into the flesh. "Want to know what he had to do?"

"Dean..." Castiel sounded worried and nervous from somewhere to the side of him but Dean ignored him.

It was impossibly hard to not react to the warmth of Sam's breath or the fingers in his hips. His body would always react instinctively to Sam's and he gasped, hands coming to plant hard on Sam's chest and try to push him back. "What did he have to do?" He whispered, shoulders tense, heart hammering hard against his chest.

"Get you," he kissed the corner of Dean's mouth, "to take him back." Laughing softly, Sam's lips moved over Dean's cheeks and jaw. "You just wouldn't give him an inch though, would you?" His tongue moved across Dean's lower lip, sliding wet and warm. "But... you waited until he'd already said ‘Yes’ to me _again_ to tell him you wanted him, didn't you?" Sam shook his head slowly and backed away.

Dean's hand curled around his heart, gasping in pain. "That's not... _fuck_..." he hissed softly, unable to accept the truth. Two times around he'd been responsible for this. "Jesus," he shook his head and fell hard against the wall. "But that's... I've never stopped wanting him. That's not fair. What sort of fucked up bet was that?" Dean felt a little like he was grasping at straws but it was the only thing that made his brain function properly.

Sam's eyes softened momentarily and he looked over toward Cas. "Why _do_ you spend so much time with them Castiel?"

Castiel tensed at being addressed by him and his eyes fixed on Dean for a moment before turning to Sam, "Because they are capable of more than you will ever know. Can't you see? You destroyed their world and they still continue to carry on. They have rebuilt their lives, found connections and love. They continue to live no matter what you throw at them. And they are our father's greatest creation." The angel crossed the room to Dean and laid a hand on his friend's shoulder, squeezing softly, the only type of comfort he knew to give the man.

"Greatest creation?" Sam huffed out a laugh and frowned, "That would be this world _they_ destroyed," he spat.

He turned away from Castiel's eyes, glancing at Dean. "But..." he blinked slowly, "much as I've enjoyed my time playing with Sam, I think I'm tiring of all of this." Sam turned and walked a few steps away. Back to the men he rolled his shoulders. "Unlike you Dean... I keep _my_ commitments to Sam." He turned once more to face the two men, frowning slightly when he saw them leaning into each other. "I promised your brother if you took him back I would let him go. No questions asked. No harm to you or anyone here. You waited until he was sacrificing himself to offer that. I hope you spend a _long_ time trying to make it up to him."

"Brother." He nodded to Castiel. "I'll be watching, we shall see who's right in the end. See what they do with this world of theirs." He raised an eyebrow. In an instant Sam's body collapsed to the floor, arms and legs twisted at strange angles, eyes closed.

"Sam," Dean gasped and rushed forward, dropping to his knees beside his brother and gathering him up. "Cas, is it... is he really gone?" Dean turned over his shoulder to look at Castiel, eyes wide and wet with tears.

Castiel slid forward and nodded, bending to wrap his hands around Sam's legs. "Come, we'll move him to the bed."

They worked together to lift Sam's body up off the floor and carry him to Dean's bed, spreading him out along the mattress. Dean bit down hard on his lip, staring down at his brother in nervous disbelief. "Go get Caleb; Sam will want to see him when he wakes up."

"Dean..." Castiel said softly, hand flickering out to brush along Dean's arm. "Lucifer said things that Sam doesn't necessarily-"

"Don't," Dean cut him off, looking up at the angel. "It's over now. We'll figure everything else out later. Get Caleb... but give us a few minutes."

Castiel nodded and squeezed Dean's arms before turning and heading out of the cabin.

Once the door shut Dean slid closer to Sam, brushing hair off his forehead, watching him nervously. "Sam? Can you hear me?" He whispered, trailing his eyes down Sam's body, trying to determine if there was any damage.

Stirring slightly, Sam's head turned into Dean's touch. "Mmhmmm." His lips brushed against Dean's wrist. He didn't want to open his eyes, just wanted to enjoy the dream a while longer. _Dean_.

"Oh God, Sam I'm so sorry," he whispered in the rush of breath, sliding forward to press a kiss to the corner of Sam's lips. "It's okay, he's gone now. You're free," he trailed his fingers along Sam's forehead. Dean leaned into Sam's body, taking comfort in his warmth and touch. He couldn't believe it was actually _over_. It was like a weight being lifted from his shoulders, giving them yet another chance to make things right between them.

"Shhh," Sam's arm slid around Dean's shoulders, "M'tired." A smile curled onto Sam's lips as his fingers smoothed through the soft curls at the back of his brother's neck.

Dean smiled softly in return and pulled in his brother's scent, heart skipping pleasantly in his chest. "Sleep then," Dean whispered and brushed their lips together. A few minutes later the door opened and Dean turned slightly on the bed to watch Castiel and Caleb come in. "Shhh, he's sleeping," Dean said softly as Caleb approached the bed with wide eyes, still slightly red. "Why don't you lay down here with him?"

Caleb crawled up on the bed and curled into Sam's side, pushing his arm out so he could slide into the space and rest his head on Sam's shoulder. "Is he gonna be okay Dean?" Caleb looked up at Dean with scared eyes.

"Yeah Caleb, he is, I promise," Dean smiled at Caleb and reached out to ruffle Caleb's hair affectionately. "What about you? How are you feeling?"

"My head hurts a little," Caleb settled onto Sam's chest and draped an arm over him. "Dean? Are you and Sam still gonna be my family? No one's going anywhere right?”

Dean's heart swelled slightly and he leaned over to brush his lips across Caleb's temple, the other hand curving around Sam's neck. "Yeah Caleb, we're still gonna be your family. No one is leaving."

"Mmkay," Caleb nodded and let his eyes drift closed, slight smile on his face as he drifted off.

Dean watched them for a few minutes, basking in the surprise amount of comfort and warmth. Eventually he became aware of Castiel still lingering not too far off from him and he sighed softly, trailing his fingers down Sam's jaw before pushing up and turning toward the angel. "C'mon," he murmured, taking Castiel's arm and leading him outside. The minute the door closed quietly behind him he blew out a long breath and dug his hands up into his hair. "Is it really over Cas? Has he really left?"

Castiel's eyes trailed along the horizon, hand lifting in a slight greeting to a few of the men who waved as they walked passed. "I believe it is. Though Lucifer has strayed from our true purpose, he is still an angel and thus I believe he does not lie. Perhaps he had an ulterior motive, or perhaps he really has grown tired of this world now that it is virtually gone. Regardless of the reason, I am certain that Lucifer meant what he said and he will leave Sam be."

Dean couldn't help the bark of excited laughter that fell from his lungs, heart flaring to life at Castiel's words. "This means I really will get another chance," he sighed and smiled softly, leaning against the wall. "Cas... is it my fault he suffered like this?"

"No," Castiel shook his head and tucked his hands in his pockets. "I believe the thing between you and your brother will always be on a plane that I cannot understand. It is clear to me though, that you would both go out of your way to sacrifice yourselves for each other. I do not think I will ever fully comprehend that love but it is what makes you human."

Looking toward the angel, Dean stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug. "Thank you for putting up with me Cas."

"It is always an honor," Castiel said softly and stood awkwardly for a moment before raising his arms into the hug.

After a few minutes Dean stepped back and turned toward the door. "I'm gonna go keep an eye on them. I'll let you know if we need anything," Dean glanced over his shoulder at Castiel once more. "Sam's gonna be okay, right?"

"I believe so," Castiel nodded and smiled softly at Dean before dropping his head and turning away, heading down to the camp.

Dean waited a moment before tugging open the door of the cabin and heading back inside.

-=-=-=-

Sam's body ached. It surprised him. Nearly the first thing he was aware of were the beads of sweat he could feel on his forehead. He pried his aching eyes open and smiled. Dean was lying on his side, face slack with sleep, mouth opening with little puffs of air as he snored quietly. Caleb was crammed so tightly in between Dean and Sam, that it was beyond Sam how the boy was even comfortable. He couldn't help laughing softly as he tried to push Caleb's hair off his rosy cheeks.

Dean woke moments after his brother, stretching his legs down into a point and moaning softly as the muscles in his legs shifted and flexed. He let out a small sigh before his eyes flickered up to Sam's face. The smallest smile quirked up at the corner of his lips and he reached out over Caleb's form, tucking a loose strand of Sam's hair behind his hair. "How you feelin'?" He asked softly, letting his thumb shift to drag along Sam's jaw line.

"Okay," Sam's face tightened momentarily. It was only the small hand latched onto his shirt that stopped him from sitting bolt upright. "Everyone... Cas? You..." He reached out quickly and ran his hand over Dean's hair, down his arm, side then to his hip. If something happened to Dean he'd never forgive himself.

"It's over Sam," Dean said softly, eyes drifting down to Caleb in between them. He'd only been intending to relax for a few minutes when he laid on the bed beside them, but he wasn't too surprised that he'd drifted off. It was pleasant to sleep knowing the end wasn't going to creep up on them from the shadows. "He's gone. _For good_."

Face softening, Sam's breath left his body slowly. "He...told you. Dean, I didn't remember... the deal, I didn't know or would have said something." Sam's eyes were gentle, full of remorse and the fear of possibilities.

Dean curved his fingers along Sam's neck and massaged gently, "It’s okay, I know. I have a feeling he didn't let you remember that on purpose, otherwise Castiel would have restored it with all your other memories. Don't worry, we're gonna be okay." He smiled a little brighter at his brother and shifted his fingers up to ghost along Sam's features, whispering across his lips. He wouldn't do anything with Caleb in between them of course, so it was as close to a kiss as he could get.

Nodding, Sam pressed a kiss to Dean's fingertips, feeling his eyes well with tears; for once, tears of relief. "S'good," he murmured. He kept nodding as he drew in a deep breath, face revealing just _how_ worried he'd been about everything.

"It is," Dean nodded and wet his lips.

Between them Caleb stirred and stretched his tiny arms high above his head, bumping into their bodies as he shifted, "It’s hot..." he mumbled sleepily and dropped his hand to rub along his eyes with curled fists.

Sam chuckled and shifted back as far as he could without falling to the floor. "It's Dean's fault." He grinned down at Caleb as the little boy's face lit up at the sound of his voice. "How you feelin' buddy?"

Caleb shifted on the bed, lifting his body up to stare at the two of them. His face split into a wide grin and he crawled up to flop on Sam's chest, extending his arm to tug on Dean eagerly. "I'm great! Are we all better? No more scary things?"

Dean shifted forward into the boy and laughed softly, arm slipping around his waist and settling on Sam's side. "No more scary things."

"Sammy do you feel better?" Caleb reached up to touch Sam's face, laying his palm on Sam's cheek.

Smiling warmly, Sam tried to get some breath into his lungs. "Caleb... you're getting...uhhhf... too big..." he rolled Caleb over onto Dean. "I'm fine Caleb... m'good." He grinned, Caleb's excitement was kind of contagious and Sam could feel his cheeks already aching from the stretch of his grin.

Dean over exaggerated the release of air from his lungs and flailed his arms to the side, "Death by Caleb... can't breathe..." he gasped and clutched Caleb's side, tickling swiftly until the boy curled on himself with giggles and rolled off the bed.

"Not fair!" He insisted and tried to get closer but Dean's hands shot out to trail another path of tickles down Caleb's side. The boy squeaked and leaped back before turning and running, "You can't get me now!"

Chuckling fondly at the boy, knowing he wanted Dean to come after him, Dean rolled on the bed for a moment until he was inches from Sam. He turned his head slightly to call out, "Oh I bet I can," before turning back to his brother and brushing their lips together, "guess we'll talk later." He dragged his thumb down Sam's chin before rolling off the bed and chasing after the little boy.

Shifting slightly on the bed, Sam propped his head on his hand and watched his brother racing around after Caleb. The laughterw22; the squeals, were good sounds; the kind of sounds that filled up a heart. He rolled his bottom lip into his mouth, seeking out the taste of his brother's kiss. Things could be good now, and maybe some of those wishes he'd made could _finally_ come true.


	7. Chapter 7

"Will you both come walk me home after school?" Caleb asked softly, lingering in the light from the open door. They'd spent the rest of the day before together playing, and enjoying not stressing out about things. Dean had even let Sam and Caleb once more join him in bed the night before, though he insisted Caleb was just getting too big to settle between them.

Dean smiled and ruffled the boy's hair affectionately, nodding, "Of course. We'll be there." He chuckled when Caleb turned to Sam to make sure he'd be there too.

"Sure dude... we'll walk over together." His eyes moved over his brother's face, brighter somehow, relaxed. Sam's lips twitched into a smile. "Now go on Caleb or you'll still be here when it's time to go get you." He grinned as the boy darted out the door, slamming it behind him. Flinching at the sound of the wood crashing into the frame, Sam shrugged, "Good thing we haven't made him mad yet."

"Yeah I can't wait for those days," Dean snorted and shifted from foot to foot, looking around. "Think we might have to relocate him when those rebellious teenage years come," he wet his lips for a moment, considering the space around them before turning to face his brother full on. "Sam..." he said softly and they locked eyes before they stepped forward as one, heads slanting at opposite angles as their lips slid together. Dean moaned instantly into the kiss, wrapping his arms tightly around Sam and slipping his hand up into Sam's hair, cupping the back of his neck.

Sam's arms slid under Dean's, hands curling over his brother's shoulders tightly. It had been _too_ long since the last time Dean came to him without fear or hesitation. Sam's lips parted quickly, his tongue slipping past his lipsw22; shy and exploring, re-learning the gentle curves of his brother's mouth. Sweetened by the honey they'd had at breakfast, his mouth was wet and sent a fiery heat raging through Sam's body. Every inch of him wanted to be pressed into his brother's bodyw22; firm, strong... the way he remembered it from _before_.

Heat flared through him, pleasant and comforting; better now that it didn't come with the fear and worry that this would all be snatched away from him. "Sam," he moaned softly into the kiss, sliding his hand down Sam's back, pressing into the small of it and bringing him closer. They stepped back, Sam falling against the door, and Dean leaning heavily into him. His mind spun pleasantly as he ghosted his fingers along his brother's body, sighing softly as his lips fell from Sam's, down to kiss along his jaw and neck.

The way Dean's body leaned into himw22; on himw22; pressing him back against the door, took Sam's breath away. His head fell back against the door with a dull thud and he laughed softly. The muscles of his throat tensed under his brother's lips, his tongue leaving a tingling trail down Sam's neck. Sam's legs slid further apart, his hands tugging Dean closer so their hips could rock together in their familiar rhythm. Heart thundering in his ears, he fell forward against his brother, lips moving across Dean's facew22; his freckles, cheekbones, jaw, the corner of his mouth. "God... Dean..."

"I know..." Dean sucked in a shaky breath and slid his hands up to cup Sam's jaw on either side. "We gotta stop," he breathed deeply and brushed their lips together, "should take it slow. Not rush into anything," Dean slid his tongue along Sam's, gently thrusting forward as his hips rocked against his brother’s. "Fuck, you taste better than I remember," each little touch was shooting sharp jolts through him and Dean could really care less about going slow, but he knew it was the wiser decision.

"Sw22;Stop," Sam's lips moved against Dean's as he spoke, "okay." He ground his hips slowly against Dean, pulling him in tighter; his hands were everywhere on Dean's body and finally shoved at his shirt to reveal the warm skin of his belly. He drew in a deep breath and bit down hard on his bottom lip, " _Jesus_... I," He couldn't stop, didn't want to. Breath coming faster, harder, Sam's hands slipped down to his brother's jeans. He tugged on the button, fingers clumsy as his mouth found Dean's again.

Feeling the warmth of his brother's fingers along his abs, Dean moaned into the kiss and shifted forward, desperate for more. _God_ he wanted Sam so badly he was almost seeing red burnt into the back of his eyelids. "Sam..." he panted into the kiss, shoving his hands up roughly under the hem of Sam's shirt, splaying his fingers along his chest. His tongue once more sought out Sam's, eager to memorize every part of his brother's taste.

Moaning around his brother's tongue, Sam felt his knees buckle; sparks darted down his spine, settling along the hard length of his cockw22; already swollen and heavy; Sam wanted his big brother. Sam slid down Dean's body, hands moving over the curve of Dean's ass, rubbing the backs of his thighs until his own knees thudded hard onto the floor. Grabbing roughly at his brother's jeans, Sam pulled them open so he could press his lips against the soft cotton boxers. Breathing out, moist and hot, Sam's lips moved over his brother's cock.

" _Fuck_ ," Dean gasped and instinctively reached a hand out to curl in Sam's hair. It had been far too long since someone touched him like this, and Dean was a little worried his brain was simply going to explode from sensation overload. The fact that it was Sam on his knees in front of him, served to make everything a million times better and Dean's knees dipped slightly. "God Sam just _do_ it already... I _need_ you..." he gasped softly.

"Dean?" There was a loud knock at the door along with the call of his name. "Are you in there? We have a situation that needs your attention."

"Oh you have _got_ to be kidding me," Dean hissed, eyes fixing on the door, "Go away Cas, I'm busy!"

"What could possibly be more important than this Dean? Morgan and Williams found a woman along the parameter and she's not infected. They've brought her here and she's mentioned something about others," Castiel huffed and tried the doorknob, pushing slightly but the wood was stopped by Sam's feet still there. "Dean? What's the matter?"

Sam's fingers dug into his brother's ass and he nuzzled against Dean's cock, unable to keep the smile off his face. "Better go help..." he murmured as he pushed up to his full height.

"Jesus," Dean sighed heavily and winced as he shifted to pull up his zipper. "God damn _awful_ timing," he muttered, dragging Sam in for another brush of lips before stepping to the side and yanking the door open. Castiel stumbled forward slightly as if he'd been leaning against the wood, and his eyes widened. "She better have something damn useful... make me miss out on finally getting a blow job..." he muttered under his breath as he brushed past Castiel.

The angel's eyes widened slightly and he turned to look at Sam, "Uh... I’m sorry. I did not realize you were..." he gestured uncomfortably with his hand before stuffing both into his pockets and staring hard down at the floor.

"Cas," Sam at least had the good decency to blush, "how's it goin'?" He pushed his hair back off his forehead, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and slipped sideways past the angel to head out the door behind his brother.

Castiel looked up at the still-open cabin door, blinking a few times before he closed it and turned to follow them, deciding it was best to let that bit of information go and definitely _not_ think about it.

The woman they'd found was waiting in the cabin they used primarily for meetings; the other women of the camp who had been nearby, were gathered around her, providing water and fruit. When Dean stepped in they slid back, allowing him room to approach and speak to her. With a little questioning, Dean was able to make a pretty good guess of the direction she'd walked and how far she'd come. There had been fifteen people traveling in her group when the Croates attacked. She had managed to make a break for it, but she didn't know what may have happened to the others.

After a few more questions, in which she revealed that her husband had been among the group she'd left behind, Dean stepped back, allowing the women to take her away and get her cleaned up. The remaining men watched him curiously, waiting for some type of order; it was moments like this that Dean hated being in charge the most. "I need to think about this... we'll meet back here tonight and decide the best course of action."

It wasn't an order of dismissal but the men took it as such, turning and heading out to continue their tasks. Dean watched Morgan clap Sam on the shoulder and waited until he'd gone to step closer, "I know what you're probably thinking Sam, but I don't think we should go." He glanced at Castiel, wondering if the angel would have his back on the matter.

A frown marred the smooth skin of Sam's forehead. "Dean," he glanced back over his shoulder, "her husband..." He couldn't even begin to imagine knowing Dean was out there somewhere and not being able to go and find him.

"We'd be walking right into a city where we know for a fact that there are Croates," Dean shook his head, scratching at the back of his neck. "It's pretty unlikely that he survived. More likely than not, we'd run the risk of putting our own men in danger."

"It would be a little foolhardy," Castiel agreed and twitched the hem of his shirt. Dean recognized the gesture and sighed, knowing the angel wasn't going to have his back on this matter. Not one hundred percent. "But if she survived... perhaps others did."

Sam's fingers slipped through Dean's belt loop, he's always done that when they stood together. Tugging gently, he dipped his head down to smile at Dean, "C'mon, you know you wouldn't want to leave me out there. _Hell_ Dean, you don't want to leave _anyone_ out there."

Dean was too much of a pushover when his brother gave him _that_ look. Sighing softly, but still shaking his head, he caved, "Fine... but it's going to be volunteer only. We aren't making anyone come unless they're certain they want to."

"I'll spread the word," Castiel's lips quirked slightly and he stepped toward the door, "When are we going?"

Glancing up at Sam and shrugging, Dean said, "I guess we should just get it over with. We'll leave early in the morning, three or four; should get us there around mid-morning. Definitely not the place we want to go into at night." Castiel nodded and made his departure. Once he'd left, Dean turned back into Sam and laid a hand on his chest. "We better pack up supplies, get the trucks ready and set out en route."

"Okay," Sam's fingers slid over Dean's, "thanks, I… I want to do this." Regardless of _why_ Sam had done what he did to save his brother and the other survivors; he'd never turn away from anyone who needed help. _Never_. Sam owed the survivors that much.

"Yeah, yeah, you can thank me later when we all get back from this _alive_ ," he mumbled and brushed his lips against Sam's before stepping back. "Come on, let's get things moving."

The news of the mission spread pretty quickly through the camp and Dean spent a good majority of the afternoon talking with those who both agreed and disagreed on going. It left Sam to do most of the planning, but Dean trusted his ability. Dean had hoped they'd be the ones to tell Caleb the news of another raid so soon but, when they went to pick him up from school, he could tell by the boy's crestfallen face that he'd already heard. He’d pouted over the decision for quite some time, until Sam volunteered to help him with his homework and effectively distracted him.

In the morning, Dean was fairly surprised by the number of men that had turned up to go with them on their possibly suicidal mission, including the new woman w22; Maria, but Dean insisted she was still too weak to come along. In case her husband had been infected, which seemed pretty likely, Dean didn't want her to have to go through that. In total, eight ended up going in two separate trucks. Dean, Sam and Morgan rode along with Castiel, letting the angel drive so they could catch up on some sleep along the way. Dean could feel Morgan throwing odd looks to the way Sam slouched so easily over Dean along the drive, but he didn't care. He knew Morgan wouldn't flat out question anything; they'd cross the bridge of letting others know about their relationship in due time.

When they arrived at the city it was deserted, as Dean had expected, but they walked along the streets with loaded weapons anyway. Four of the men stayed behind by the trucks, siphoning any remaining fuel from the gas station and heading to the nearby grocery store to check out available provisions. If they came back with any extra supplies, it would be a bonus and make the mission worth it, or so Dean told himself.

Halfway down the second block, Dean heard the clatter of garbage and he turned sharply, raising his gun. It had been over two years since Dean had encountered the last infected person. They were dying out from lack of food and sheer animalistic brutality. Which was why he was so surprised to see the group of them come around the corner, six or seven total, and he fired his gun on instinct.

"Dean!" Castiel hollered from behind him and Dean swiveled into what he presumed was a Croate sneaking up on him. But all he saw was a large metal pipe moments before it connected with the top of his forehead and the world blacked out.

Sam was too far away to see what happened, but the instant he heard the tone of Castiel's voice he knew something was wrong. He set off around the corner at a full run, skidding to a halt in time to see Castiel dispatch two Croates while a rather shocked looking man stood behind him. _Dean_. His brother was crumpled on the ground beneath Cas' feet. The angel was fiercely defending his downed friend. Sam's body jolted into action; he stepped to the side and started to walk forward, steadily firing his shotgun into the infected people, cocking it again and firing. He stopped at Castiel's side, bodies scattered around them. As the last body fell Sam kneeled down quickly beside Dean, "Cas?" He glanced up at the angel, "what happened?" His eyes snapped to the other man, still looking as though he had no idea what was going on. Without waiting for Cas to speak Sam's hands slid over Dean's hair and he groaned quietly as he saw the blood.

"I believe this man thought Dean was one of the Croatoans," Castiel glanced at the man before kneeling beside Sam and peering down at Dean. "He's alive," the angel assured Sam, narrowing his eyes at the cut. "Though I imagine he will need stitches. And will probably have quite the headache."

"I'm s-sorry," the man stuttered, holding the pipe in his hand a moment later before dropping it. "I thought he was... I could hear them coming and... oh God, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to hurt him. Who are you guys?"

Sam slipped his hand under Dean's neck and pulled his brother's body up to cradle his head against his chest. Fingers rubbing gently on Dean's cheek, he leaned down close, lips pressing to Dean's forehead next to the cut. "Hey, Dean ... c'mon, lemmie know you're okay." Sam glanced up at the man beside Castiel, "We're survivors like you... your wife? What's her name?" His eyes moved back to Dean, the steady rise and fall of his brother's chest.

The man's eyes widened slightly as he stepped forward. "My wife? Maria? Have you found her?" He rubbed his palms together anxiously, looking between them.

Castiel nodded and pushed up, "Yes, she is at our camp. I am sure she will be relieved to see you." Castiel glanced around him nervously before setting his eyes on Sam once more. "We need to get back to the trucksw22; there always tend to be more once a group has been killed. It's the smell of blood." Castiel turned and spotted Morgan shifting at the end of the alley restlessly. "Morgan, help Sam get Dean up."

Morgan nodded and stepped forward quickly, holding out his gun to the new man, "Here, hold this. Don't worry, it's not gonna go off or anything." He sighed and pushed the gun into the man's hand before stooping beside Sam. "He okay?"

"Think so…" Sam's hand rubbed Dean's chest, his eyes moving quickly to Morgan then back to his brother, "okay, grab his other arm." Sam slid his arm under Dean's and curled his fingers into his brother's jacket. Nodding at Morgan they pulled Dean up slowly, Sam easing Dean's head back against his neck.

The world spun under him and Dean groaned, pain radiating down his body from his head. "Sammy?" He murmured, rolling toward him as his stomach churned. "Fuck... my head..." he groaned and tightened his fingers on the flesh under both his hands.

"You're good, Dean." Sam shifted his grip and settled his brother into his side. "Just gotta get you to the truck. Cas?" He nodded at his shotgun on the ground. "Let's go."

"Come on," Castiel said quietly to the man as he stooped to pick the shotgun and trailed behind Sam, Morgan and Dean in between them. "What is your name?" Castiel asked the still twitching man.

"Jeremiah," he said quietly and frowned. "I really am sorry."

"I'm sure Dean will forgive you, after some time," Castiel nodded as they turned out of the alley.

If Sam wasn't as worried as he was about his brother he might have found Castiel's faith in Dean's leniency amusing. It was a bit of a battle getting Dean to the truck. Morgan was a lot of help, but Dean was restless even though he wasn't quite conscious and Sam had to carry most of his weight in order to keep him calm. By the time they made it to the truck Sam was exhausted. He clambered into the backseat and Morgan almost shoved Dean in while Sam pulled him. " _Jesus_ , Dean." Sam managed a small laugh as he collapsed back against the seat and shifted Dean up in his arms. Cas handed him a bandage and some alcohol and Sam freed his arms to smooth his brother's hair back from the cut on his forehead.

Dean groaned as he tried to still the way his head spun. "Shut up," he grunted and curled his fingers in Sam's shirt. "Fuckin' hurts." He flinched when the driver's door slammed shut. "Cas..." he groaned, reaching out and smacking a hand through thin air.

Castiel chuckled softly and shook his head, "Sorry. We are on our way now." He glanced over his shoulder to check the truck behind him before starting up the engine and turning the vehicle around. "We'll be back before you know it."

With a soft whimper Dean tilted his head up to peer at his brother, scowling slightly. "Did some dude do this to me?"

"Yeah," Sam wiped the blood of Dean's forehead, "don't worry though we left him tied to a telephone pole in the city." He grinned at Dean and grimaced as he pressed the bandage to the cut. He pulled one foot up onto the seat so that Dean could settle between his legs.

"Better fuckin' have," Dean grumbled and settled back into his brother's body. "If anyone asked, I got this from... a big battle. Lots of Croates. I was a fuckin' bad ass," he peeled his eyes open to glance up at Morgan and Castiel before laying his hand on Sam's thigh. "Deal?" he asked even as Morgan chuckled, Castiel joining in with him.

Chuckling, Sam laced his fingers through Dean's as his heart finally unclenched in his chest. If Dean was joking - he was okay. Leaning down, Sam whispered against Dean's ear, "Don't _do_ this to me again." He pressed his lips to Dean's cheek, "When I came around that corner and saw you..."

"Told you we shouldn't have come," Dean murmured and tilted his head back, "better have been worth it."

"We found Maria's husband," Castiel offered.

Dean blinked a few times, too tired to make the connection. "Wake me when we get there," he mumbled and let his eyes drift closed.

Sam tried to keep Dean's neck supported so that his head didn't roll around too much. He did insist a few times that Castiel was hitting every bump in the road deliberately. The angel didn't respond and Sam noticed that Morgan was grinning as he turned quickly to look out the window. Eventually, the bleeding on Dean's forehead slowed and Sam relaxed enough to fall into a restless sleep. It felt like he'd only just closed his eyes when Castiel was shaking him gently.

Blinking, bleary-eyed Sam sat up as much as he could and shifted his brother. "Dean?" He brushed his fingers over Dean's cheek. Morgan pulled the back door open and Sam slid out from under Dean, groaning as he stretched his arms up over his head.

Rather than trying to wake Dean up again, Morgan and Sam just lifted him out of the truck and were halfway up the stairs when the door burst open and Caleb came running out.

"Sam!" Caleb skidded to a halt, eyes widening as he took in Dean slouched between them. "Dean! What happened to him Sam? What's the matter? Is he okay? Oh no, there's blood!" Caleb squeaked and went to lurch forward, but Miss. Jacobs curled her fingers around his arm and tugged him back, urging him to give them room to get inside. "Sam? What happened?" His lower lip jutted out as tears prickled along his eyes.

"Hey buddy," Sam grunted as they shifted Dean quickly through the front door, "Dean's fine - I promise. Just give me a couple seconds here." Once they had Dean settled on his bed Sam turned, kneeled and opened his arms for Caleb.

Caleb jerked away from his teacher and lurched across the room, nearly flying into Sam's arms. "But there's so much blood. Are you sure he's okay?" He wrapped his arms tightly around Sam, tiny body shaking slightly.

Morgan stood back and cleared his throat, "Come on ladies, let's give them some time to unwind." He smiled at Sam knowingly before ushering the nervous looking women toward the door. "Dean's fine, trust me, he was joking around in the car. We've got to find Maria, we located her husband." At this the women's faces brightened considerably and they bustled quickly out the door. Morgan smiled once more at Sam, "Let me know if you need anything, okay?"

Resting his head on the top of Caleb's head Sam smiled at Morgan. "Thanks; go get some rest." As soon as the cabin door closed Sam enjoyed the quiet for a few moments, and then shifted Caleb back a little so he could see his face. "Alright buddy, you wanna help me get Dean better?" He could feel the boy shaking and his heart went out to him. "I promise Dean's okay, he was bein' real cranky in the truck on the way home." Sam wrinkled his nose and grinned at Caleb.

Dean groaned, rolling on the bed and flopping onto his face. "Heard that Sam," he mumbled into the sheets and peeled his eyes open, smiling softly. "Caleb you're gonna have to keep Sam in line for me."

Caleb grinned and curled his tiny fingers into a fist, shoving them into Sam's chest and huffing out a breath in his best Dean impression. "Yes sir," he beamed at Dean then turned to Sam once more to ruffle his hair in the way Dean so often did to the both of them.

Laughing Sam punched Caleb lightly on the arm. "Caleb, can you get me a clean towel and the first aid kit from under the counter?"

"Yup," Caleb bounced away, happy to help in any way he could.

Mumbling nonsense, Dean shifted on the mattress and kicked his legs around until he could toe off his boots. "Whiskey?" He asked hopefully, peering at his brother through slanted open eyes.

"No." Sam huffed out a laugh and leaned down to help Dean sit up for a few moments so he could get him out of his jacket and shirt. "Whiskey..." he muttered.

"Hurts," Dean insisted, not helping Sam very much with his coat or shirt.

Caleb skid back over to them with a clean towel and the first aid kit, water bottle tucked under his arm, "Here Dean, I know you like to have water when you get back. And that other stuff but I can't reach that."

"Sam says no," Dean shrugged and smiled at the boy softly, leaning into Sam's form.

"Thanks Caleb," Sam clicked the first aid kit open and started to root through it. "Caleb, get the towel wet with some of Dean's water and see if you can wipe some of the blood off his face, okay?" He smiled at the little boy as he poked his tongue out in concentration.

"Foot massage while you're at it please," Dean mumbled softly, enjoying the odd sort of comfort of the moment.

Caleb slid the now wet towel over the dried blood on the side of Dean's face, face scrunched up slightly as he focused, "No way," Caleb shook his head slightly from side to side, "I ain't touchin' your stinky feet."

Dean's eyebrow lifted slightly and he coughed out a small laugh. "Sam, I think we're rubbing off on him."

"You mean _you_ are rubbing off on him. I'd never say anything like that." Sam winked at Caleb when the boy opened his mouth to disagree. He peeled the backing off a butterfly bandage and leaned over to press it across the cut. "I think that will hold it - it's almost stopped bleeding. What do you think Caleb?" Sam's heart warmed as he watched Caleb lean over Dean's forehead, intense concentration on his face. It reminded Sam of when he was a kid and he would fret when Dean came home from hunting with Dad. He had always wanted to make sure his brother was whole, uninjured, still _Dean_.

"S'not so bad," Caleb nodded and reached out to take Dean's hand, "How did it happen Dean?"

Dean smiled softly and let his eyes drift closed, "Big epic battle. I won of course." He shifted back and yawned slightly. "Need more sleep though. Should be fine and dandy in the morning 'm sure." Things were definitely feeling a little less fuzzy around the edges and Dean didn't feel dizzy, though that could have been simply because of Sam's steadying presence at his side.

"Okay, Caleb, bed..." Sam tousled the boy's hair. "You've got to get up and go to your lessons in the morning and Dean needs to sleep. Get your pj's on and I'll lock up." Sam moved around the cabin, locking the front door, and pulling the blanket curtain across it to stop to cool fall air. He smiled as he moved about, listening to Caleb's small voice answered by an occasional grunt from Dean. By the time he had all the candles and lanterns off, Caleb was already scrambling into his bed. Sam sat down on the side of his mattress and reached over to tuck him in, leaned down and kissed his forehead - even though Caleb was already beginning to complain that he was too old for kisses.

Caleb tugged the blanket closer to him and murmured quietly, "Sam? You'll look after Dean tonight?" Caleb still wasn't one hundred percent that Dean was completely okay. There was a lot of blood after all.

"I sure will buddy. Dean's one of my favorite people in the world." Sam smiled and stood, "Get some sleep." Crossing his arms Sam grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged it off over his head. He tossed it on the chair and moved over the Dean, "Hey, just gonna get your jeans off." With gentle fingers, he undid his brother's jeans and tugged them down until he could pull them off. Next, he wrestled Dean's covers out from underneath him and managed to get them _over_ his brother. "Pain in the ass," he murmured as he stood to take his own jeans off. After a quick glance at Caleb, Sam slipped into bed beside his brother.

"Mmm you wish," Dean muttered and rolled into Sam's body, rubbing his face into Sam's chest and grinning against the skin. "Your damn fault anyway," he added softly and settled his hand on Sam's skin just above his boxers, rubbing soft and slow circles, never once opening his eyes. "Thanks for cleanin' me up."

"Hey, you're minew22; I gotta keep you in good working order." Sam settled himself into the mattress trying to ignore how amazing it felt to be so close to Dean. His hand slipped over Dean's hip and settled on the gentle curve of his brother's ass. He grinned into Dean's hair.

Dean groaned softly and shifted back into Sam's hand. "God, I hope we get a chance to be actually alone soon," he mumbled and pressed his lips into Sam's skin, slipping his fingers under his brother's boxers and trailing along the jut of bone.

Sam's abs shuddered as he tried to stop his hips from rolling forward. "Okay...you should stop doing that..." he knew Dean could hear the amusement in his voice. "I can't take advantage of an injured man." He kissed Dean's forehead and closed his eyes as he let out a long sigh.

"Like I wouldn't let you," Dean's voice was fuzzy with sleep and he sighed blissfully and withdrew his fingers. "Night Sam," he added and settled in along Sam's chest, drifting off.

-=-=-=-

"Are you _sure_ you're okay?" Caleb asked, shuffling from foot to foot and curling his fingers around his schoolbooks.

Dean smiled around the pieces of apple in his mouth, settling back on the chair. "I'm just fine Caleb, you don't get to use my head injury as a way to get out of school for the day," he chuckled softly, trying to push back the growing anticipation along his nerves. "Nice try though. You really are taking after me."

Caleb sighed dramatically and looked up at Sam before turning and heading to the door, "Oh alright. But come and pick me up after okay?"

With another soft chuckle Dean pushed out of the chair and carried his trash to the kitchen. "Sure thing bud, we'll be there."

"Okay, bye," Caleb smiled at them before tugging the door open and stepping out, slamming it shut behind him.

"You really okay?" Sam couldn't resist asking.

Dean's lips quirked up in a soft smile and he nodded, "Yeah I'm good. Slight headache, but nothing too bad." He reached up to touch the bandage on his head before crossing the cabin and stopping at the door, turning the lock before turning back to Sam, smile growing. "I'm sure you can make me forget about that."

"I can?" Sam shifted his weight to his back foot licking his lips as he watched Dean's eyes darken. "You have a head wound. You need your rest." He took a couple of steps backwards until he ran into the bed.

Dean followed the steps, curling his fingers along the hem of his shirt and tugging it up and over his head, tossing it to the side. "Not tired," he said softly and stepped into Sam's space, nudging his legs apart. "Can't wait any longer for this though," he murmured and slid his hands through Sam's hair, down his shoulders and sides until he could tug his brother's shirt off and send it to join his across the room.

Laughing softly Sam's splayed fingers moved across his brother's firm abs watching as the muscles fluttered under his hands. "You like that?" He looked up as he shifted closer to the end of the mattress, hands sliding around to Dean's back so he could rub his rough stubble against Dean's belly.

With a quick gasp Dean arched forward slightly into the touch. His skin felt over sensitive, unaccustomed to the touches after so long of not having any of them. "Sammy..." he breathed, enjoying the feel of his brother's name like a moan from his lips. He wanted to feel Sam's heat all over him, practically _needed_ it. Currently, Sam's skin against his abs was doing a variety of numbers to his system, causing his knees to dip slightly.

Shifting slightly, Sam brushed moist lips across the lines of muscle in his brother's abs. He licked and nipped his way across the heat of his brother's skin. "Love the way you taste," he murmured as his hands slid further down to grip onto his brother's jeans. With one long drag of his tongue across his brother’s belly, he brought his hands forward over Dean's hips and to the button on his jeans. Popping the button loose, he pulled the zipper down slowly, taking a moment to stare up at Dean's flushed face.

Dean was fairly certain he could soak in this pleasure forever and be quite content. As it was, Sam had already succeeded in making him harder than he had been in a really _long_ time. "S'good," he mumbled as his hand settled in Sam's hair, curling softly. "Your lips..." his hand slid forward to graze along those lips and he dragged his tongue along his own in time with the touch, hips rocking forward into Sam's touch.

Moaning softly, Sam caught Dean's finger between his lips, eyes gazing up at his brother as he sucked it into his mouth. His tongue circled Dean's finger as he sucked it deeper, hands pulling his brother's jeans down slowly over his hips and thighs then letting them fall to the floor. Sam's fingers ghosted over Dean's thighs, then moved teasingly along the waistband of his boxers. Letting Dean's finger fall from his mouth, Sam licked his lips and smiled up at Dean.

Standing was no longer much of an option, Dean felt far too lightheaded and he stepped out of his jeans, bringing his hands up to help Sam slide the boxers down. "Gotta lie down," he murmured and pushed in between Sam's legs, urging him back on the mattress. "Head injury and all," Dean added with a smirk and knelt above Sam to let his hands drift down to Sam's jeans, sliding forward enough to slant his lips over his brother's eagerly.

Lifting his hips quickly, Sam shoved at his jeans. _Fuck_ , he's spent so much time thinking about Dean's bodyw22; his skin, the heat between them, the way they fit togetherw22; and now the moment was finally here Sam was nervous. His shaking hands moved to settle over Dean's waist, fingers rubbing, and curling into his brother's flesh. Slanting his mouth he strained up to deepen the kiss, tongue slipping out of his mouth to tangle with Deans. It was wet and hot and Sam's shaft was heavy and aching - had been since their first touch.

Dean shoved roughly at Sam's boxers, lifting up to give his brother enough room to shimmy the material off. "God I want you," he gasped into the kiss, moaning as their cocks slid together. He'd forgotten just how amazing that felt, feeling their heat burn together like that. Dean would be lucky if he lasted past this burning heat coursing through him. He thrust his tongue roughly into Sam's mouth, twining it along his brothers as his hips rocked forward once more.

Gasping, arching up into his brother's body, Sam moaned around Dean's tongue and sucked it hard. Pulling back, he dragged his teeth along Dean's tongue as his hips rocked up slowly, seeking out more contact, more heat. "Dean," he whispered, nails dragging up over his brother's ass, "want you."

It was all Dean needed to hear and he crawled off the bed, darting over to the storage in the kitchen as fast as he could and returning a few moments later with a bottle of Vaseline. A bright smile tugged on his lips as he settled between Sam's spread legs once more. "Best we can do," he shrugged and uncapped the bottle, dipping his fingers in and smearing the cool substance over his fingers. His eyes sought out Sam's as his finger slipped in small circles around the puckered flesh, biting down on his lip as he pressed forward. His pulse quickened as his finger slipped forward into tight muscle, moaning softly.

A smile tugged at the corners of Sam's mouth then faded quickly as Dean's finger slid into him. Throwing his head back, the muscles in Sam's neck strained as his mouth fell open to draw in a rough breath. Hips rocketing up off the mattress, Sam groaned and slid a hand down his chest to stroke up the length of his cock then rest against Dean's cheek. When he managed to focus his eyes and look back down at Dean's face his breath hitched. "God... you... I forgot how you look..." Dean's cheeks were flushed making his freckles stand out, his eyes almost black and glassy like dark pools of water, lips red and glistening. Sam's cock twitched against his belly and he arched up, then back down sinking Dean's finger deeper inside him.

Dean worked his finger in slow circles, swallowing around the sudden and surprising swell of emotion in him. He couldn't believe how long it had been since the last time he touched Sam like this. He never wanted to forget the gentle gasp that accompanied Sam's pleasure. "Sam..." he whispered and rubbed his second finger along the rim of flesh before pushing forward, savoring his brother's moan and arch. Dean's hips rocked forward slightly, seeking out some sort of friction in the thin air, eager to be buried in the burning muscles currently encasing his fingers. As he slid his second finger the rest of the way in, he fell forward, straining up to capture Sam's lips in a gentle slide.

Sam's mouth worked gently against his brother's, lips sliding, mouth opening and closing, tongue slipping wetly along his brother's bottom lip. Each slide of Dean's lips against his sent heat rocketing down Sam's spine. The way he was shaking, the pressure building in his balls, had Sam believing he could come just lying there fucking himself against his brother's fingers. Desire surged through him in an almost overpowering wave, his spine bowed up off the bed and he held his breath for a few long moments then gasped out a plaintive sigh. His arms moved, twitching, fingers reaching for his brother's rigid length. Curling his hand around Dean's cock he squeezed lightly, stroking up, then down to graze his fingers over Dean's balls.

"Jesus," Dean gasped, wrenching his lips from Sam's, head falling to the side of his neck and mouthing along the skin. He had to center his mind to focus in on the task of scissoring the muscles. "Keep doin'... that... and I'll…" he moaned softly and pushed back enough to stare down at Sam's flushed face, “So fuckin' sexy..." he growled low in his throat and thrust his fingers harder up into Sam before sliding all the way out and adding a third to the mix. Dean pushed back up to his knees so his hand could wrap around Sam's cock, stroking to add pleasure to the burn he knew his brother had to be feeling by this point.

Sam looked up, frustrated as Dean's heavy shaft pulled out of his hand. He couldn't stop moving, hips rolling in small circles. His tight muscle was burning as Dean stretched him out; he hadn't been with anyone since Dean… had never wanted to be. But the burn easily became a pleasure under Dean's touch. Sam's heart raced, beating against his chest and sending his blood rushing noisily in his ears. Each slide of Dean's rough palm over the sensitive skin of Sam's shaft made him nearly crawl out of his skin. No one's touch ... no one ever made him _want_ more than Dean's.

Every breath Dean pulled in was starting to burn through his lungs, rough and heavy with quick pants. "Sam..." he murmured, eyes traveling down the long expanse of flushed skin until they settled on his fingers working in slow circles inside him. "Want you," he moaned and quickened the pace of his fingers, stretching them wider, matching the steady strokes of his hand along Sam's cock. His eyes drifted back up to the hard flesh, zeroing in on the bead of precome at the slit. Dean couldn't resist bending down and swiping his tongue over the liquid, enjoying the spark of his brother's taste over his tongue. He moaned softly and sucked the crown in, mind buzzing as he remembered how full and thick the weight of his brother was in his mouth.

Sam's hand slapped down hard on Dean's shoulder, "Enough," he mumbled drawing his foot up to push himself high and hard against his brother's body. He grabbed at Dean's hair, fingers tangling in his brother short curls and pulling him down closer to his cock. "Now..." he growled deep in his chest feeling the vibration of his own want travel down his body.

After one final hard suck along his brother's shaft, Dean pulled back and let his fingers slip from Sam's body. He definitely didn't need to be told twice. Once more, he reached out for the Vaseline, gathering a large amount to smear along his aching cock and groaning softly as pleasure threatened to consume him. He wiped his hand on the bed sheet and took a moment to steady himself before shoving roughly at Sam's leg with one hand, pushing it up to spread his brother's flesh open. As he lined the tip against Sam's entrance he once more locked eyes with Sam, sucking in a sharp breath before edging forward. It was so much tighter than he'd remembered and Sam's body sucked him in inch by inch, Dean moaned and restrained himself from slamming all the way home.

Breath all but stuttering to a halt, Sam bit down hard on his bottom lip trying to stifle the noises, the sounds that were bubbling up out of him. His cock was so hard it almost hurt; every patch of skin that touched Dean's felt like it was burning. Sam was reduced to panting softly as he tried to keep his head from spinning out of control. Pushing up again, Sam angled his hips and drew his brother's cock deeper. Dean was thick, hot, and he loved the fullness. "Dean..." the name was like a plea for more and Sam threw his hands out capture Dean's ass and pull him in to bring their hips together as his brother's cocked thrust deep and hard. "God..." he threw his head back, panting, shaking as the burn sent adrenaline racing through him.

Dean nearly lost it right then and there. He was suddenly completely encased in his brother and it was almost _too_ good. "Fuck," he hissed and fell forward onto Sam's chest, sucking in a quick lungful of oxygen to keep from coming. It definitely didn't help that Sam's body was in constant motion beneath his, urging him on. "Forgot how this..." he mumbled into Sam's skin, sucking at a patch of flesh above his nipple, "felt so fuckin' amazing." His eyes lifted up to watch the pleasure dance across Sam's face as he shifted his hips back and gently rocked them forward. Dean repeated the action almost instantly, letting his whole body drag along Sam's and slide back up with each long and deep thrust.

"I dw22;" Sam gasped a few breaths in, "didn't forget..." He blew out a shaky breath, hips snapping up then back down, cock weeping as his hand slid down his body to wrap around his shaft. Launching himself up, Sam caught Dean's earlobe between his teeth, biting hard then letting go to whisper, "…kept me alive." He moaned loudly, swearing under his breath as Dean's thrust grazed the bundle of nerves inside him sending shock, after shock through his body. His vision blurred as he mumbled incoherently for a few moments, fingers scrabbling to grasp onto his brother's back.

His hips kick-started into over-drive with the way his heart lurched suddenly in his chest. He angled to hit that spot in Sam again, pushing up enough to dig his fingers into the mattress on either side of Sam's body as his hips drew back and slammed roughly forward. Sam's muscles clenched around him repeatedly and Dean moaned, head falling forward, sweat beading along his forehead as his pace quickened. His body felt so alivew22; thrummingw22; blood rushing so loudly in his ears it made him dizzy. "Fuck Sam," he panted, hips driving down hard once more, sending his brother shifting up on the mattress a few more inches.

Sam didn't know whether to cry out or try to gasp more air into his lungs. The way Dean fucked into him was hitting the right spot almost every time and Sam's heart was ready to beat right out of his chest. The blood in his body was racing so quickly he could barely see. Each thrust sent his body rocking back into the mattress, his muscle clenched tight around Dean's cock then relaxed. His hips rocked up, shifted to the side, spine arching into the pleasure - roll after roll of heat washing over him - _through_ him. His fingers stroked his cock lightly and Sam's balls drew up close to the heat of his body. "Dean," he murmured as he threw his head back. His orgasm shocked the _hell_ out of him, one second he was fighting to breathe, the next his entire body was bowing up off the mattress and sliding against Dean's as his come shot up his belly and chest in long, painful good pulses. Sam's entire body throbbed and his muscle clenched tighter around Dean's cock.

"God," Dean gasped at the sudden vise around his cock, nearly holding him in place. He watched Sam's face with hungry eyes as his brother came, feeling the shake of his body under him with the intensity of his release. It was honestly a surprise to Dean that he'd lasted so long; it only took a few more sharp and quick thrusts forward to send him careening head first into his own orgasm. He moaned his brother's name in a long drawl as wave after wave of his release crashed over him. By the time he'd emptied everything he had, his limbs felt numb and shaky and he collapsed down on top of Sam in a heap, panting heavily into his neck and clinging to him tightly, never wanting to break the connection between them.

Rolling his hips gently against his brother's, Sam worked Dean through his orgasm, wanting to feel every second of Dean pulsing and twitching inside him. Wrapping his legs over Dean's, hands sliding back over Dean's shoulders Sam held on tight. He wrestled his breathing back under control even as he mouthed his way along Dean's collarbone, nipping gently, hips still twitching periodically as his body relaxed back into the mattress.

Dean allowed himself several long moments to catch his breath before pushing up enough to brush his lips along Sam's softly, a quiet sigh falling into the kiss. "Fuckin' amazing..." he murmured and slid back out of his brother before returning to lie across his chest. His eyes fluttered closed, body enjoying the gentle rise and fall of Sam's chest. "Gonna have to do that again soon," he smirked and nuzzled into Sam's neck.

Tightening his arms around his brother, Sam sighed softly and buried his nose in Dean's hair. The smell was like coming home, he'd never forgotten it. "Soon..." he mumbled, rubbing his cheek against his brother's hair.

"Always loved you Sam," Dean said softly, curling his arms under Sam's body, feeling like they never could be close enough, "Always will."

Sam's lips twitched into a smile as he caught Dean's leg with his own. "I know," he laughed softly, "you've always been mine." He'd never doubted it, never.

"Just like you're mine," Dean murmured, a little too spent to put any tensing words in the mixed. His heart continued its steady swell and, for the first time since the world ended, Dean felt like there was really a purpose to him being here. He sighed blissfully and basked in his brother's warmth. "Definitely gonna have to repeat that before we pick up the kid from school," he chuckled, amused by the line he'd never imagined saying to his brother. Dean could definitely get used to this family dynamic, with his brother by his side as his lover and partner and Caleb as probably the coolest kid ever.

"I think maybe," Sam brushed gentle lips against Dean's temple, "we might want to add a room or two to the cabin." His hands moved lower to cup his brother's firm ass. "You know," he mumbled against the side of Dean's hair, "give Caleb his privacy." Sam's heart was so full he felt like it was about to burst. All those years apart drifted away slowly.

Pushing up slightly, Dean caught Sam's lips in a long, slow kiss before pulling back and grinning at him, "Yeah sounds like a great idea. Kids need their privacy after all." He dipped in for another pass of lips and tongues before settling once more on Sam's chest. "Stay with me," he murmured into Sam's neck, lips grazing along the skin, "forever."

This time, for once, Sam knew that the answer was right, "Yes."


End file.
